


You Belong To Me

by sullacat



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Christmas Fluff, Dom/sub, M/M, Meet the Family, Road Trips, Sexual Slavery, background Kirk/other people, background McCoy/other people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-12 20:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3354401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullacat/pseuds/sullacat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The premiere spot for luxury, privacy, and fetish.</p><p>If you can dream it, it's yours - but for a price.</p><p>Welcome to The Island</p><hr/><p>The Island is the premiere resort community for sexual fantasy and adult oriented vacations. Jim Kirk's the best at what he does, training his slaves to properly please their guests. </p><p>Leonard McCoy sold himself to The Island, hoping to get lost, hoping to find himself. But when he met The Captain, suddenly the carefully designed rules that The Island was built on all changed. </p><p>Everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bored

**Author's Note:**

> For Kinderjedi, on our fifth anniversary together as friends and writers. Thank you for making me better at everything! 
> 
> I'm hoping to update a chapter or two every Saturday. 
> 
> Based loosely on the novel 'Exit to Eden' by Anne Rice. The rest belongs to Star Trek. No infringement intended, for entertainment purposes only.

December 13  
Nob Hill, San Francisco

The bar scene reminded Jim of one of those old Rat Pack movies. It was an older, established hotel, but that's what appealed to Jim. The cherry wood, the dark paneled walls, even the lingering scent of a recently lit Chohiba added to the atmosphere. Jim sat at the bar, as he had for the past two evenings and surveyed his surroundings with the practiced eye of one who knew how to play the game. 

On his left, at the far end of the bar sat two ladies 'of a certain age', carefully painted up and gently laughing at each other's jokes, trying to score some male attention as they sipped on their dirty martinis. They wouldn't be getting it from those two muscular guys at the corner table, too wrapped up in each other to notice anyone else in the room. 

But they hadn't fucked each other, not yet. A slow negotiation happening, defining the rules, the roles. 

Jim took another sip from his drink, then turned his head to his right, at the older gentleman talking overly loud to his much younger and very beautiful female companion. All eyes when her date was watching, but the moment his attention turned, she threw Jim that look, the one that said that for a couple drinks and a few thousand dollars a month, she could be all his, body and soul. 

Jim chuckled. California. Nothing ever changed out here. 

San Francisco... well, anywhere he'd been visiting out here on his vacation. People were the same everywhere, their wants and their needs. Their hungers and desires. Easy to read if you tried and it was Jim's job to do that, to know what people wanted, and to deliver that. To give them their fantasy. 

The older guy stood up and headed to the bathroom, and his companion used the opportunity to turn toward Jim, crossing her legs just high enough for him to see the perfect skin of her thighs. Not bad, as far as California went. But Jim wondered what she'd think if he told her what he did for a living, that he was the head trainer at the most exclusive sex club in the world.

That he knew more ways to please a man or woman than she could dare to dream in the dim-witted head of hers.

That it took a hell of a lot more than a pair of fake tits and some blonde extensions to impress him. 

 

Bored. Waving the bartender over toward him, Jim dropped three one-hundred dollar bills onto the rich dark wood in front of him. "A bottle of Cristal for the ladies," he nodded at the older women sitting on the far end. Giving them a little wave, he silently wished them luck in their endeavors and headed out the door. 

A quarter past eleven. Still early, but Jim was bored. Restless, and that was dangerous. Giving his ticket to the valet, he waited for his Corvette to be brought to him, and let more of those dark thoughts filter through his head. There was a time not that long ago that this was his playground, a city for the taking. Everything he ever wanted and more.

Driving away from downtown, he tried to remember who that kid was.

Ten years had it been that long? Jim had elected to end his education early, leaving Iowa for the West Coast. Smartass kid, Jim had thought he knew it all, arriving in the big city so green it hurt to think about now. The night of what would have been his high school graduation, he was turning tricks in San Francisco. Men, women, old, young - Jim didn't discriminate, as long as they had money. Jim knew how to work his body, had an instinctive flair for knowing how to please his partners, and (almost) never said no to anything, until he started dabbling in more dangerous territory. 

Developed a bit of a reputation. 

Eight years since a man named Christopher Pike found him and changed everything. His large Napa Valley house was always an option. Chris only received invited guests but he'd never turn Jim away, they shared too much history. 

No. Jim couldn't return there, not after the way he'd left so many years ago. It would be like going back to being that kid, ignorant and confused and that was the last thing Jim needed tonight. Looking down, he spotted his messenger bag on the passenger seat. That meant he had his laptop and his tablet - all he really needed. 

Driving past the apartment he kept near Berkeley, Jim drove south down 580. He'd always loved driving fast at night, and with any luck, and minimal traffic, he'd be in Las Vegas early, clear his head at the craps tables, and be ready to head back to work in a couple days. 

All this, it's not you, Jim. Not anymore. Everywhere he'd gone, he'd felt like an outsider, a charlatan. This was supposed to be his vacation, time to relax away from work but he _couldn't_. Everywhere Jim went just reminded him how different he was, how 'wrong' his life would be considered by all these people around him. 

The pretense of being normal was too hard to keep up. Always an emptiness, this gnawing open and empty space inside him where something tender and more human should live. 

But it wasn't in Jim, just that gaping hole in his heart. 

Time to get out of California.

Time to get back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #1: [Golden Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLoix7hqidI) \- Natalie Merchant


	2. Laissez les bons temps rouler

December 13  
French Quarter, New Orleans

Two thousand miles away - another man sat at another bar. "One last one for the road."

His fingers wrapped around a large envelope. Several pages, filled with more legal jargon than his divorce decree and his signature smack dab on the bottom, all of which meant that Leonard H McCoy just agreed to give up nearly all the rights to his own body for the next two years, in exchange for five million dollars, free and clear. 

"Leaving already, Doc?" An older black man packed a small glass with ice, then poured a healthy shot of Jim Beam on top. "Night is still young and the band's coming back in a few minutes." 

"Sorry, Mac," Leonard told him, dropping off a twenty as he picked up the glass. "Got me an important appointment in the morning. Won't be back for a while." He glanced down at the envelope on the bar. "Going on a little trip. "

"Well, if you ever find yourself back here in the Big Easy, you come on down here and see me again. I'll fix you up good." 

 

Pulling out the papers, Leonard read over the contract again. Rules for everything: rules for what he could do, what he couldn't do. Rules for how far the trainers could go. Nothing permanent, no tattoos, no bodily harm. Violence was not tolerated, by a member or a slave. Safewords. Physicals. 

Fucking lawyers, Leonard couldn't even become a whore without having to sign a disclaimer, that he understood he was a whore, delineating his whore duties. 

Maybe that was just another test. Leonard rolled up the forms and tucked them inside his jacket, and headed outside. 

This was Leonard's second trip to New Orleans. The first time was his honeymoon. They had stayed in older renovated hotel in the French Quarter, playing tourist and staying tipsy the entire time. Joanna had been conceived on that trip, Leonard remembered fondly as he walked down the street, filled with herds of college boys and bachelorette parties. Revelers on hotel balconies dangled beads to the waiting crowds below - and this was just a Wednesday night in December. 

Amazing. 

Eventually Leonard made it back to his hotel room at the Sheraton on Canal Street. There wasn't much to pack; he'd been explicitly told that everything he took would be placed in storage for him when his two years were done. 

Of course, Leonard wasn't sure what he was going to do when he finished this chapter in his life. Two years from now, he'd be thirty-five, still young. He'd still be a doctor, if he wanted to work right away. He'd have some money, though in his head all of that was to set aside for Joanna, and her future. 

That's what he'd told Phillip before he left Atlanta. 

_"Are you sure you know what you're doing, son?"_

_Leonard's eyes remained on the ground, his training coming back even though he wasn't here with Phil in that capacity. "This is what I want."_

_Phillip Boyce exhaled loud, shaking his head. "Look, I'm not saying that it's a terrible idea. Thirty years ago, I'd have dropped everything and done the same, if I had known where any of these places were."_

_"No, you went one better," Leonard said, his hand waved around the spacious living area of the renovated Southern mansion, with its plush parlour and sumptuous bedrooms upstairs. "You built your own place."_

_But Phillip wasn't taking the complement. "This place ain't nothing like The Island, Len. There are a thousand people there at any given time, slaves and trainers and members who are paying top dollar to have their fantasies come true. These people know their business, and expect you to know yours." Leonard had heard all of this before. No novices for The Island - if you were accepted, it was because a top-shelf trainer had vouched for you and your skills._

_Someone like Phillip Boyce, who was respected in the business. A sex slave trained in his house could turn a pretty penny at the private auctions, where slave contracts were snapped up by the best resorts as well as private individuals who wanted their own playthings without the hassle of training them. "At least wait until after the new year. Stay for the holidays."_

_But Leonard had nothing left in Atlanta anymore. Between his father's death and the divorce, there wasn't a single place that felt like home anymore. "Joanna's gonna be up north visiting Joce's family. I'm dropping off gifts tomorrow and saying good-bye."_

_He'd told everyone that he was joining Doctors Across Borders for a two-year period._

_Crass, maybe, but still better than the truth. Leonard reached over and clasped Phil's hand. "I appreciate everything, Phil. You getting me into The Island. Hell, everything since that day you found me-"_

_Phil didn't want to hear any of that. "Be careful, Leonard. Don't get lost there."_

But getting lost was exactly what Leonard wanted. He needed to forget about himself, about his work and his relationships and his sad pathetic excuse for a life right now. He wanted to just exist, to be empty, to _belong_ someone, to give everything up to another person. 

To find a healing in that vacuum. 

That's what Leonard told himself, at least. Tossing the last of his clothes into his travel bag, he turned off the television and left his key card on the hotel table. 

An hour from now, he'd be on a yacht heading away from all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #2: [Blackbird Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wbgb3lgMluA) by Lee Dewyze


	3. Home

December 17  
Caribbean Sea, off the coast of Belize

“Gulfstream One Seven Zero One November, Enterprise Tower, enter right downwind, runway two, report entering right downwind.” 

“One Seven Zero One November will report right downwind, runway two.”

Nothing felt better than being in the air. 

Jim loved the peace of the sky. One of the first purchases he made after the club got off the ground was this Gulfstream 450. Technically it was property of The Island, but it was Jim's baby, and with a few exceptions, kept for his use. Right now he was heading home, early enough in the day that he could see the sun dancing on the water as he circled around the eastern coast of the property, heading for the landing strip. 

“One Seven Zero One November, cleared to land.”

Heading home, away from the winter chill of the north. The idea made him laugh. He'd just spent three weeks visiting the United States under the pretense of 'vacationing back home', but the entire trip had done nothing but remind Jim that he was an outsider, even in his own country. "Cleared to land, One Seven Zero One November."

"Good to have you back, Captain." Jim grinned, already feeling more like himself. No one called him 'Captain' anywhere else. His family thought that he was a pilot on a European cruise ship line. But here, he was The Captain, lead trainer and co-founder of The Island. 

Not bad for a twenty-eight year old high school drop out. Looking down as he circled, Jim spotted the bungalows and cabanas, the main resort buildings, the pavilions out back, the tennis courts, the swimming pools - everything that made it look like any other luxury retreat. But it was what happened inside that made The Island so special, what brought the members (and their hefty one million dollar annual dues) back year after year.

There were others - Indulgence in Mexico and Sweet Sensation in Amsterdam. Rumors circulated that someone was trying to put together a private club in the Middle East. But they weren't The Island. Jim and Spock had designed it to be first class in every way, from the chefs to the private villas to the shows to the slaves themselves. 

Each one a superb specimen - but that didn't mean that they were all cookie-cutter model types. Jim knew from experience that it took all kinds to make a collection, so he strived to make his stable one of the most diverse in the industry. All colors, all body shapes - all with a single minded determination to please their masters, whatever it took. 

More than anything, it took a great deal of training. Anyone could find a submissive soul and beat the spirit out of them with endless rules and rigorous punishments. Some masters wanted that - a sex toys who wouldn't refuse, a pathetic creature to raise their self-esteem. 

The Island wanted _more_. An Island slave was unique, naked and sensual. But being a thoroughly sexualized being wasn't enough. They had to excel in a variety of areas. A good slave, properly trained, could cook for you a fine meal, then thoughtfully discuss the day's news with you afterward, should you want that. They were not silent or sulky, but intelligent, capable of holding a discussion while expertly massaging you. They could dance with you or for you, sit back and listen to your thoughts or concerns or dreams, ever attentive. A good slave could take control, on those occasions that the master wanted to let go, expertly knowledgeable with a variety of sex toys and positions.

The Island wasn't about getting laid. No, this was about luxury, being treated like a king or queen.

 

People were arriving. The small airport was buzzing, private jets lined up in a row. More exciting, Jim spotted the club's yacht in the harbor, along with other ships belonging to club members. New contracts on board - and this year, the holiday season coincided with a new crop of slave, guaranteeing a packed house. 

Jim landed, and twenty minutes later he was stepping into his private suite of rooms to change into his typical trainer attire - black leather pants and a soft black button down shirt. Janice stood at attention, naked except for her heeled shoes and gold slave collar - just how he liked her best. "Hello sweetheart," Jim told her, touching her cheek as he accepted the folder she held out for him. A list of the new members who'd arrived in his absence - Jim would go speak personally to each of them before the day ended. There was some messages, invitations to dinner, and Spock's methodical list of things that needed Jim's personal attention. 

But it was what Janice had to say that concerned Jim more than anything else. "Nyota called and asked that you contact her as soon as you were able. A problem with one of the new initiates." Your typical Island slave didn't concern themselves with administrative duties, but Janice spent most of her time with Jim, and he'd grown to rely on her more and more. 

That didn't mean her duties stopped there. She held out a cold bottle of his Stella Artois, but he shook his head, fastening his trainer whip to his belt. Better. "I'm going to go find Nyota. I won't be back until late tonight." Touching her face again, he gave her a little smile. "Unpack my bags when they get here. Do whatever you need to get done today, but I want you here when I return." Too long he'd been without her special brand of attention. If there hadn't been a problem with the new slaves, he might have relieved himself of some of that frustration then and there. 

But duty called, and when she reached out, fingers grazing his shoulder, he caught her hand, shaking his head no. "Not now."

"Yes, Captain," she told him, dropping her eyes but smiling. She was a smart one, according to her Wharton School of Business degree. But Jan knew her place here, that she had it good as long as Jim liked her and kept her for himself - and she wasn't going to mess that up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #3: [Fuck This Shit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMcmkaLJRfg) by Belle and Sebastian


	4. Good Slave

December 14 - 17  
Caribbean Sea

 

When Leonard had first been told that the slaves were boated to the island, he chuckled. "Never did like flying," he told the man with the instructions, as he signed the last of the papers at the bar in his New Orleans hotel. 

The man, who had introduced himself as Mister Sulu, nodded. A tall and handsome Asian man dressed all in a white leather suit, he exuded a calm demeanor, which helped to settle some of the lingering nerves that had started as the hours ticked closer to Leonard's departure. "It's important that you have the proper time to... prepare yourself for this next adventure." The way he had said that reminded Leonard that he wasn't alone in this 'adventure', that there were others joining him, not to mention the others that had gone before. At some point, Sulu here must have done the same, right? And he seemed to be happy.

There had been three pieces of instruction. "Eat well, sleep well, and don't touch yourself," Sulu had told him, one last clap on the shoulder before leaving Leonard to his thoughts. "The doctor will be in within the hour." 

Then he was gone and now, standing alone in his cabin, Leonard felt those butterflies again, his stomach twisted as he heard the door being locked from the outside. "Okay then," he murmured to himself, looking around at his home for the next several days. A small bed on one side of the room, a well-stocked bookshelf, and television set with an assortment of popular DVDs on the other side. Leonard found an empty journal and some fountain pens, in case he wanted to write, he supposed. 

But who would he write to? Both his parents were dead, Jocelyn hated him, she'd moved on. None of his friends could understand this ache inside him. No one had ever understood, until he met Phillip. 

Then one day, even that wasn't enough.

 

The small port hole window gave Leonard some indication what time of day it was, so he kept track of the passage of time. The sun had just begun to set on the third day when someone knocked on the door, the noise startling Leonard as he read. It opened, and he saw Sulu standing outside. "It's time, Leonard. I need you to take off all your clothes now." 

_Okay, here we go_. Pulling his shirt off over his head, Leonard noticed two others in the hallway, a man and a woman, already naked and blindfolded, hands bound behind their backs. The dark-skinned man was fidgeting already, signs of nerves starting but the woman, tall and blonde - she stood perfectly at attention, the soft pink tongue wetting her bottom lip the only outward sign of her inward state. 

He would be like that too, Leonard told himself. Nothing was more humiliating than being labeled a bad slave.

Leonard quickly undressed, nervously handing his clothing to Sulu, who carefully placed everything in a small bag tagged with his name. "Very good, Leonard," he said, giving Leonard the smallest smile before pulling wrist cuffs out of his pocket. "Turn around."

Soon he was bound and blindfolded, and they were on their way down a cramped corridor. Left, right, left again and then down, they slowly made their way down a set of steps and Leonard could hear the others added to their numbers, more than twenty from what it sounded like. No one spoke, but there were soft groans and the occasional deep breath as they finally entered what felt like a large room at the bottom of the boat. "Geoff, right here. Kneel." There was a pause, then it was the lady's turn - Carol, that's what Sulu called her. 

Then it was him. "Kneel." Leonard got down on one knee, then another, and straightened best he could. Hands rested on his shoulders, and he felt a thick band of leather wrap around his neck, buckled comfortably. "Very nice." Then louder. "I will be back in the morning."

Naked and kneeling. No other instructions. Terrible. Leonard almost wished he were chained up. This way was worse. 

This way, it meant that a slave stayed in that position because they _wanted_ too. 

 

Less than an hour later, someone began to cry. Female, from what it sounded like, soft sounds from the far end of the room, soon followed by the thin sharp crack of a cane, and a louder cry. "Stop," a woman's voice commanded, and soon it was quiet again.

 

Leonard woke up to the sound of someone jacking off. 

'Woke up' wasn't exactly the right term - that would suggest that he slept. At best, Leonard napped in short increments of time. Being forced to kneel all night, hands tied behind him kept him from being comfortable enough to find deep sleep. The sounds the others made kept it from being totally quiet. Even with a group of highly trained slaves such as they all were supposed to be, Leonard could see that one or two hadn't ever been truly punished.

Today was going to be a long day, Leonard mused to himself as he heard the guard finishing himself off, coming with a loud groan. 

The worst part was this, being alone with his thoughts. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe he should have just stayed at Phillip's house. There were men there, men and women who would have taken him in hand properly, given him the structure and organization and punishment that he needed to rely on, to keep him sane. Wasn't right, wasn't _natural_ , that's what his father would have told him. "A man's gotta be a man, Leonard."

He hadn't had the heart to tell his dad that he was the sort of man that wanted another man's foot on his neck, telling him what a good boy he was. In the end, it was probably a good thing the elder Doctor McCoy passed away without knowing his son was a degenerate. The sort of man who wanted to lose control by offering it up to someone else. That's what The Island represented for him, that's what he'd tried to explain to Phillip. "I can't have you around, knowing I've got some sort friendly connection to fall back on." 

He needed to be in one hundred percent, body and soul, where no one gave a damn about his needs. Where no one could save him if he changed his mind.

Footsteps, someone in boots approaching. "Time to get up," Leonard recognized Sulu's voice. "Up!" he repeated, and the crack of the cane came down on someone's skin. Over and over, the footsteps and the cane got closer, and Leonard scrambled up as fast as he could, still feeling the strike, hard against his ass. Everyone was lining up, or so he thought, still blindfolded but pushed behind Carol. He could hear her, soft breaths but still not a word. 

Leonard was almost proud. 

Not every slave was as poised. It sounded as if that woman was crying again. "Forward," someone called out and they all made their way slowly up the stairs. Leonard's knees ached but it felt so good to just be moving, walking, he even forgot for a moment he was naked and collared. His bladder was full, but fuck if he was going to be the one to ask to pee. Soon, however, all Leonard's bravado began to fade as he realized the boat wasn't moving anymore, the engines quiet. 

They were going ashore. Walking slow, they stepped out into the light, Leonard feeling the warm sun on his face and became acutely aware that people were watching him, all of them. A shiver ran down his spine, that sense of being deliciously vulnerable as one by one, they stepped out onto a gangplank. Blindfolds were removed and Leonard saw it for the first time, and he exhaled. 

"Wow," Carol said softly, and Leonard had to agree. Huge, just like Phillip had told him. At the time, that sounded appealing, being able to lose himself in something large. It looked like a small compound, white luxury hotel buildings surrounded by high white walls and tall mahogany trees. 

"Yeah," he agreed, just as Sulu approached, hurrying them all along. Naked and bound, the little parade of flesh made their way toward the main gate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #4: [Civilian](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mssm8Ml5sOo) by Wye Oak


	5. The Parade

December 17

Disaster averted. 

Jim always prided himself on the administration of this island. He and Spock laid out the ground rules from the beginning, when The Island was just an idea in his mind. The only way this worked was by following the path, the rules. The Prime Directive, Spock had coined once, and Jim liked it. To be the best, there had to be structure and order and standards and deviating from that was unthinkable. 

"Sorry, Lance," Jim said into his cell phone, tapping his stylus against his tablet. Lance Cartwright had been someone he'd trusted in the past, but this error had changed that. "No second chances." The boy would have to be paid off, and they would accept no more contracts from Lance Cartwright in the future. It was a hard line they drew, but a scandal like that could invite the law in, or worse - the media. 

Security and privacy on The Island was of the utmost importance. One hint of scandal and everything would be gone in an instant.

 

It was still morning when Jim jogged up onto the administrative office's spacious balcony just in time to watch the new crop of slaves being brought onto the island. He always liked the parade, watching with Spock and Nyota as the naked men and women marched around the gardens, the three of them picking their favorites, bargaining for the best ones. 

They made a good team, the three of them. The Island had come a long way from its inception, just a germ of an idea in Christopher Pike's salon. Spock Grayson ran the day to day operations of the Island, while Jim kept the members happy, the 'front of the house' man. 

But the acquisition and administration of the Island's slaves was Nyota Uhura's purview. She attended the auctions, purchasing the contracts of those slaves that came up from the large training houses, as well as maintaining good relations with the private trainers that kept their own stables and recommended slaves to her. 

By unwritten rule Jim always got first pick, and while he enjoyed that privilege, it wasn't the easiest decision and he found that listening to Spock and Nyota's thoughtful comments helped him decide who he would take under his wing and personally groom.

His partners were already there and seated. The three of them separated themselves from the other trainers by the black leather they always wore, and today Jim whistled low at Nyota's short black leather skirt, slit high to show her perfect thigh. 

He leaned in and she kissed his cheek. "Welcome back."

"Brought you a Christmas present," he told her, settling in the chair next to her, looking down at the crowd growing near the poolside.

"Everything okay?" Nyota asked, sipping on her flute of champagne. 

"Taken care of," Jim told her confidently. Within two minutes, Christine, Nyota's favorite girl, pressed a tall glass of cold water into his hand. Offering her a smile of thanks, he turned to Nyota and said, "But one of the new ones, Pavel Chekov - he's out of here, and we won't be dealing with Lance Cartwright anymore." Jim snorted. "Turns out the kid's still seventeen."

Despite the warm day, Spock wore his usual black leather suit and tie. "Pity," he said. He'd had a particular fondness for Cartwright's stable of 'youthful' slaves. 

"Not worth the worry," Nyota reminded him, and everyone agreed with that. "Have you seen?" she asked Jim, nodding at the new crop of slaves, all waiting behind a curtain to be properly displayed and introduced to the members. 

"Haven't had the pleasure," Jim told her, "but I understand they're an excellent group."

"Best crop we've ever had," Spock added in a satisfied voice, as the three of them sat back to watch. 

 

The Parade of Initiates was one of Jim's favorite events. He'd read about something like it once, in a S&M story, and thought enough of it to make sure that when they were constructing The Island, it integrated into their plans.

The Parade served two purposes. First, it gave the members (and staff) the chance to look over the fresh crop, to select their favorites and get the patrons even more excited about their stay at The Island.

Second, and more importantly, it created a necessary atmosphere of fear in the minds and hearts of the slaves, a not so gentle reminder that they belonged to their new masters now. Bound and naked, the thirty men and women marched through the gardens, around the swimming pools, and back toward the large patio where a long flat platform had been erected. 

So much skin. From their elevated spot, Jim heard the members chattering with excitement as the slaves slowly meandered by tables and large potted plants, until they disappeared behind the curtained area near the stage. 

Sulu stepped out onto the platform. "Quite a group we have this year," he began, speaking into a microphone. The members had all gathered at tables and chairs set up near the stage, or leaning against the stone pillars of the patio. "First, please let me introduce Misaki from Osaka." A tall curvy woman with long dark hair and heavy breasts hesitated, then made her way toward the end of the platform.

One by one the initiates were introduced, and they walked the length of the platform as the members clapped and shouted, a few cat calls and offers made as they stood there. 

Always interesting, to see how a slave responded to this. All of them were well-trained, Jim knew this, but even the best houses didn't have this, a thousand people oohing and aahing at your naked body as you stood perfectly still.

One by one the slaves were presented. Spock and Nyota took careful notes of each slave, but Jim liked to just watch, see which slave caught his attention, which one was 'the one', someone special he could take to the next level. Marlena from Barcelona was interesting, as well as Geoff from Vancouver. When Carol from London appeared, Jim had to laugh as both Spock and Nyota leaned forward in tandem, entranced as she strolled out with as much grace and dignity as any slave Jim had ever seen in this arena. 

"Uhoh," Nyota murmured, catching the smile on Jim's face. "The Captain looks like he wants her." 

Jim was about to retort something witty when Sulu announced, "Finally, please welcome Leonard from Atlanta." All three of them turned back to watch their final slave begin his walk. 

"Hmm," Spock murmured, and Jim knew exactly what he meant. The man looked like a deer in headlights, that first impression of so many people calling at him, watching him throwing the slave off. The last one always had the hardest time, the audience well liquored up and relaxed by the end.

Standing still at the end of that stage wasn't easy, and Jim could see Leonard's leg muscles twitching, the man taking deep breaths, his cock fully erect, red and hard as he posed on the platform. 

Someone in the crowd wolf-whistled and Leonard turned toward it - a mistake, Jim thought to himself. Slaves were supposed to be impervious to the attention-seeking of the crowd. But this one, this slave... Jim watched as Leonard's lips curled up into a little smirk in the direction of the whistle. 

"Hey Leonard," someone on the other side called out.

"Hey yourself," Leonard replied, the audience gasping and chuckling.

"What is he doing?" Nyota asked, but Jim didn't know what to say, too busy watching as Leonard began to relax, taking in the attention. He stretched his arms high above his head, slowing turning his body and flexing, much to the delight of the front row, who got an up-close and personal view.

Spock stood. "Where is Mister Sulu?" he asked, and as if on cue, Sulu appeared, walking onto the stage and taking Leonard by the arm, dragging him off. "Nyota?" he turned toward her.

"It will be dealt with," she promised, her face stoic as she faced them. A slave had to know his place - or he didn't survive. "Okay, Jim, what's your call? I am guessing we all want Carol, but officially you get first pick."

Spock finished his drink. "I also wish to try my hand at that last slave." Spock looked down at his notes. "Leonard McCoy." Looking up, he gave them an enigmatic look. "He will be challenging."

"No." Nyota and Spock both turned toward Jim as he spoke. "I want McCoy."

"Not Carol?" Nyota's brow furrowed. "That surprises me, Jim. She's your type, to the letter."

"Then it's your lucky day." Jim stood, finishing his drink in one swallow. He hadn't meant to say that, he _had_ wanted Carol. A month under Jim's tutelage and she would be a goddess, able to have her pick of positions in the future, retirement in ten years if that's what she wanted. 

But that guy, that smartass with the spectacular body. 

Something about him scratched an itch Jim didn't know he had. "Let me know later what happens with him," he said, standing, handing the glass of water to Christine. "I gotta go finish some work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #5: [Cool Kids](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSCzDykng4g) by Echosmith


	6. Bad Slave

December 17  
The Dungeon

 

"Leonard McCoy..." 

Leonard looked up at the sound of his name. Knees aching from kneeling on the cold concrete floor, he balanced himself as well as he could. He had been gagged as soon as they yanked him from the stage and took him to the basement of the slave dormitory. Now he knelt, naked with his hands extended, chained to a bar fastened behind his neck. 

The voice came from a tall woman, dark skin, skin tight black leather hugging her body. Beautiful and cold. "Leonard," she repeated, shaking her head disappointed as she stepped toward him, the sound of her heels clicking as she approached. "My proud slave," she said, touching his cheek, tugging hard at his collar. She knelt down to that he could see her face, beautiful skin, dark eyes. 

Cold eyes. "I picked you to join us here, do you know that? I approved your application myself. And you disappointed me with that display this morning, Leonard."

Leonard looked down. The moment he'd stepped on to that stage, he'd known he was wrong, that this had been a mistake. Phillip was right, he wasn't ready, wasn't prepared for the sheer size of The Island. 

Her finger tugged at the strap around his mouth, pulling it down so he could speak. "Anything to say, Leonard?"

Leonard cleared his throat so he could speak. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Nyota," she said softly. "My name is Nyota. Say it."

"Nyota," he repeated, right before she slapped him hard. 

"Say it again," she told him.

His eyes stung from the force of her hand. "Nyota."

"Good." Sitting back on her heels, she took his chin in her hand. "You understand that there are consequences for your behavior today."

Leonard nodded, dropping his eyes to her feet. "I do."

"Good," she repeated, replacing the gag. She stood, walking away from him, and immediately Leonard missed that small touch, that human contact. "Darwin will be overseeing your punishment for the rest of the day - and the next two." 

Another trainer approached. Dark skin against white leather. Spectacular. "Lady Nyota," she said quietly. 

"Good morning, Darwin. This slave was proud. He needs... reminders."

"Of course." Reaching into her pocket, Darwin produced a small grease pen. Lifting Leonard's chin roughly, she wrote something on his forehead. "To remind the others," she told him. "And to remind you."

 

Eight hours later, Leonard stepped into a small dank room, lined with cots. He was dirty and exhausted, Darwin still watching every movement and riding his ass all fucking day. "You get fifteen minutes in the shower, then that bunk over there." 

The hot water felt good on his aching muscles as he stood there, motionless. Leonard didn't mind hard work, but he felt like he'd cleaned every public toilet in this complex. _Proud Slave._ It had been written on his forehead, and everyone who saw him that day shook their head in disappointment. At first it didn't bother him, but as the hours wore on, the disappointment weighed as heavily on him as the workload. Nothing felt worse than being a bad slave, being marked as inferior. The entire notion of voluntary servitude was based on a job well done. 

And today, he'd fucked up big time. 

When he was done with his shower, Leonard returned to the small dorm area set aside for punishment. Darwin sat at her desk, watching as he approached. "Eat your dinner, proud slave," she told him, motioning to a small tray on an empty cot, a plate of food and a bottle of water. 

He spotted others eating quietly, all sitting in front of their cots, their legs chained. Leonard sat in front of the empty bed, watching as Darwin secured his feet to a post on the floor. She stopped talking, and hadn't seemed to mind when Leonard spoke, so he told her, "Thank you," when she handed him his dinner plate. 

As he ate, Leonard looked over and recognized one of them from the boat with him, a woman with long dark hair. 

Glancing over at Darwin, she shook her head. "Miss Marlena, yeah, she didn't like her first day of servitude. The Commander decided that a couple days here in the dungeon with me might change her attitude." She motioned again for Leonard to eat, so he did while she spoke. "You won't have that problem. You caught the Captain's eye, and the Captain never sends people down here for me to work over." 

Leaning over, she drawled low into his ear. "The Captain always handles these problems himself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soundtrack #6: [Revelry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZyGWg0uqkw)


	7. Like candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains a scene with Jim/Janice

December 17

 

Jim didn't return to his rooms until later that evening. Falling heavily into his favorite leather chair, he accepted the small tumbler half filled with ice and Jameson from Janice, and began going through that day's emails. When he finished filing and replying and deleting, he sat back and turned his attention to the man that had caught his eye earlier that day.

Leonard Horatio McCoy.

An impulse purchase, like those candy bars they set up near the registers at grocery stores, tempting you with their glossy packaging. Leonard McCoy was six feet and one inches of trouble that Jim Kirk didn't need. Sure, the troublemakers were fun, breaking them like a horses, creating masterpieces out of clay. But Jim typically chose beautiful creatures, finessing them into perfection.

Troublemakers took time... but if McCoy had made it this far in the process, there must be something good in there to work with. And fuck, Jim thought as he pulled up the encrypted files on his tablet - he sure was pretty to look at.

The report drawn up on him was remarkable, but then again, everyone who came to The Island had a story behind them. Jim never failed to be surprised at the high education level of so many of their slaves. He'd wanted to study that more intently one day, a hypothesis that he and Spock had discussed. Maybe... maybe the more a person learned about their world, the smarter they were perceived- Jim thought those people wanted to delve into this subculture deeper, to lose themselves, lose whoever the world perceived them to be. The Island employed lawyers, professors, athletes. Two years ago there had been an actress currently starring in an award-winning film. 

And now they had a doctor from Georgia. Recommended by Phillip Boyce. 

Jim quirked an eyebrow at that. Boyce was an old friend of Christopher's, the two men old army buddies. Boyce's style ran cooler, slower; his slaves had good manners, if that made sense. Maybe not worked over as hard as Jim liked, but he'd never been dissatisfied with a purchase.

University of Mississippi, Bachelors of Science in Biology. Medical degree from Emory University. Atlanta Medical Center residency program, general surgical specialization. Married at twenty-four, divorced at thirty. Father of a little girl. 

This said nothing. Jim read through the application, trying to figure out who Leonard McCoy really was. 

 

**Why The Island?**   
_Is this a trick question? I can't imagine anyone who participated in what we do who wouldn't at least be curious about it._

_For me? I guess it was time for a change. I'm at a point in my life where I can see the fork in the road. One path leads to respectability, a satisfying career, day in and day out, being the good doctor for the next forty years until I drop dead of a heart attack on a country club golf course. The other path lets me explore this need inside of me to be taken, offering complete and total access to my body to another person._

**This lifestyle isn't for everyone. Why did you choose to come here?**   
_I wanted to get lost. There's something 'safe' about the smaller houses, knowing that help is always just a few rooms away. The Island is big enough that a person could be immersed in the lifestyle, that I could drown in other people's desires, and no one would be there to save me._

**Submission. Define it.**   
_Service. Actions that promote another being's interests, mental and physical and sexual._

_In a way, I feel submissive when I practice medicine. It's so easy to fall into this god-like mentality, saving people from illness and snatching them from death. But working with patients and their bodies, I always feel secondary to their needs, like I'm the least important person in the room. During surgery, I am a tool that makes others better. I gladly serve my patients._

_When I submit to others sexually, I get the same sort of rush, knowing that my needs are not what matters. Knowing that with my hands and my ass and my mouth, I bring pleasure to someone else. I'm not Leonard anymore and I love that. I want to give up what makes me Leonard, put that into someone else's hands, for a little while, to eradicate what is unique about me, until there's nothing left but my skin and my bones._

 

A pile of bones. An interesting answer, Jim thought to himself, but he'd read enough of these mini-confessions over the years to know that something was missing. Leonard McCoy had a secret, and Jim was going to find out what it was. 

Tomorrow.

Fuck, not tomorrow. Double checking his emails, Jim frowned. _Leonard McCoy: janitorial staff (three days)_. That was a long way off. Closing his tablet, he handed it to Janice for charging, and went to get ready for bed. 

 

She was kneeling by his bed when Jim emerged from the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. There was nothing like a naked, kneeling slave, Jim thought, and after that achingly long trip, he craved that release of tension that orgasm held. 

Maybe this was what had been wrong, what he'd been missing. 

Laying on his bed, Jim fixed some pillows behind his back and spread his legs, motioning for Jan to lay on her back between them, his cock nestled between her ass cheeks, the slow slide of skin against skin, the way he liked. 

Yessssss... Jim sighed to himself, holding onto her hips tight, angling his erection for that perfect friction. Closing his eyes, he let all his thoughts go, all the worries and responsibilities, just for a few moments. Jim groaned loud as he came, appreciatively as he reached around and gave one of Jan's breasts a squeeze. "No shower tonight," he told her, slapping her ass playfully as she rolled up, his come smeared all over her back. His mark on his slave. "Not until the morning." 

"Yes, Captain," Jan murmured with perfect deference before leaving for her room for the night. Stretching out on his bed, Jim felt a little better, relaxed. Ready for some sleep.

Maybe he could get Leonard sooner, he thought to himself as he turned off the light and closed his eyes.

But sleep didn't come.


	8. Shiny

December 18  
The Dungeon

 

"You'll get him, Jim. In due time."

"I don't like waiting." 

"Patience, Captain."

"Nyota..."

"Not here. Not now." The voices kept talking, footsteps leading away from the room. 

Blinking awake in the dim light, Leonard spotted Darwin, sitting at the small table, tapping into her laptop. She laughed, low and menacing. "I'm not sure whether to congratulate you, Leonard, or take pity on your sorry ass."

Leonard could hear several of the others, soft noises telling him that he wasn't the only one whose cock was wrapped up tight in leather straps, his balls bound against his body. Slaves being punished weren't allowed to touch themselves but right now, Leonard was so hard, he felt like if he rolled over onto his stomach and rubbed against the cot, he'd shoot his load - and there was a part of Leonard that didn't care if he got in trouble.

But in the end he did care - mostly because he wanted to meet The Captain. 

 

A few minutes later, the lights all flicked on, and Leonard heard boots scraping on the tile floor. Darwin was rousing the others, one by one, lifting them carefully and examining each person before sending them on their way with the handler responsible for overseeing their punishment. Swallowing, Leonard steeled himself for another long day of scrubbing toilets when Darwin stopped in front of him. "Get up to Room 14. Ask for Gaila."

Room 14 ended up being on the other end of the compound, and Leonard felt eyes on him as he made his way there. Of course his little stunt wouldn't be forgotten soon, and any chance he had of staying under the radar were gone. 

He knocked on the door, and was immediately led inside a cool, darkened room filled with couches and soft music. Gaila ended up being a beautiful young woman with long red curls, wearing a transparent gown of this thin gauzy material. "There's my bad boy," she began, leading him into another room with an over-sized bathtub and shower. She took off all his chains and cuffs (but not his collar) and led him under the hot water, multiple shower heads coming out of the ceiling. Using a loofah, Gaila began at the top of his back and scrubbed him down with a tender thoroughness that surprised him. 

After that shower, there was a full body massage, the likes of which Leonard had never experienced. Oiled and rubbed, all his muscles seemed to relax in her expert hands. She didn't speak much, singing quietly to herself in some language that he couldn't make out, finishing by wiping the words off his forehead. Before he knew it, he was blinking his eyes awake. Leonard didn't have a watch, but he knew several hours had gone by.

"You feel better?"

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured, keeping his eyes down, training kicking in. "Thank you," was all he could say, still in shock that he was here. 

Leonard wrapped a towel around his waist and followed her. In the next room, someone had laid out a light lunch, a bowl of tomato soup and half a grilled cheese sandwich. His tight body restraints that he'd arrived in had been replaced with a black leather half-harness, straps running across his chest and over his shoulders, attaching to an O-ring in the center of his chest. 

Gaila helped him get into it, fastening and buckling him in, his wrists bound together behind his back in soft leather cuffs. His cock was nestled in a soft black leather brief. "Don't you shine up pretty, Leonard," she said, huge blue eyes all over his face as she ran her fingers through his slightly damp hair, fixing it for him. Finally she adjusted the wide leather collar around Leonard's neck. "Now you are perfect." 

"I don't understand-"

"You will soon," she told him, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "Tell the Captain I said hello."

 

It was a little after four in the afternoon when Sulu arrived for him. Silently surmising Leonard, Sulu just nodded, and marched him over to the main complex where the trainers lived. The elevator took them to the top floor. When they stepped off the elevator, there was only one door in front of them. Sulu knocked twice, then turned and got back into the elevator. The last thing Leonard saw was a little wink as the doors slid closed.

Heart beating fast, Leonard stood fast, eyes down. The door opened, and he focused on the black boots. 

"Hello Leonard." The voice was soft, friendly. Not exactly what Leonard had been expecting. "Step inside." Leonard's eyes remained lowered as he was led past a spacious living area to a smaller room off to the side. A long chain hung from the middle of the room, the walls adorned with paddles, whips, and flogs, but not much else in the way of furniture. "You understand the rules, Leonard?"

There it was, that hint of authority. "I think so... sir."

"Call me Captain."

The corner of Leonard's mouth turned up at that. "Captain," he repeated.

"Look up. I want to see what I'm working with." Leonard lifted his chin, straight into the most amazing blue eyes he'd ever seen. "Hello Leonard."

The Captain might have been the most attractive man Leonard had ever seen. "Hello Captain." 

Those eyes bored into his for a long moment, before sweeping up into his forehead. Leonard felt the Captain's calloused thumb swipe across his forehead where the words had been, then down his cheek. "My proud slave," the Captain said, shaking his head as he reached for a long paddle that lay on his sofa. "That wasn't the best way to get my attention, Leonard."

"I'm sorry, Captain," Leonard murmured, dropping his eyes again. 

"It's a good thing that I like you. You were supposed to be in there for three days." Leonard shuddered slightly. "You wanna go back?" the Captain asked, stroking Leonard's shoulder with one hand.

"No, Captain."

Leonard felt his tight briefs being tugged down, exposing his cock and his ass. "You know why you're here, Leonard?" 

Leonard exhaled slow. "...'cause you wanted to piss off that nice lady." 

The Captain laughed, then swatted Leonard on the ass, hard. "That nice lady could tear you up, Leonard. Show some respect."

Leonard felt the flush down to his chest, as pink as his bottom. "Sorry, Captain." 

"That's better." The Captain removed the short whip he kept on his waist. "Tell me about your training. Why did you seek out this life?"

Leonard took a slow deep breath before he answered. "There was something missing."

A pat and obvious answer, but The Captain let it slide - for now. "Some people fall in love, get married. Have a family."

"I tried that. It didn't work."

The Captain was silent a moment, almost like he was lost in thought. "So you went back to Boyce?"

Leonard nodded. "Yeah. Ran back…" He'd ran back so fast, it shocked him.

"Yes Captain," the man chided, reaching for Leonard's wrists and cuffing them to the long chain hanging down from the ceiling. 

Leonard nodded as his arms lifted high above his head. _Bound_. "Yes Captain."

"Do you keep a journal? Some slaves do, you know."

"No, Captain," Leonard paused before adding, "but I will, if it pleases you."

"It does." The Captain circled him, assessing him. "Are you afraid?"

"No." The word flew out fast, Leonard knew he answered too quickly.

A low chuckle. "You should be." The Captain brushed his lips against Leonard's, then turned him around and swatted his ass again. "Have you ever been fucked by a woman?"

"Yes Captain. "

"Did you like it?" 

"...Yes Captain." He didn't mind it, not really, but always, every time, he thought about that one time with Jocelyn. He'd asked her to fuck him, tried to make it sound like just something new, something kinky they could try, but he knew it showed - the hunger in his eyes, the need in his voice. Her eyes widened, changed as the realization spread across her face, exactly what kind of man she'd married. 

She'd done it for him, and seemed to enjoy it, but nothing was the same afterward, that look of disgust in the corner of her eye. Perceived or real, Leonard never really knew - but his marriage ended that night.

Another slap, this one harder. "Don't lie to me."

Leonard gasped. "I'm not, Sir." Another swat. "Sir, Captain..."

"Why don't you like women fucking you?"

"...My wife, Captain Sir."

"Thank you, Leonard." Soft lips pressed against the back of Leonard's neck. "But you like men fucking you."

"Always, Captain." Leonard waited for the swat, but instead, he was rewarded with a laugh.

"Any idea why, Leonard?"

"Can't fall in love with a man." Leonard took a deep breath. "They can't hurt me, not really." Leonard watched as The Captain stepped in front of him, his hand dropping in front of him, squeezing his balls. 

"That doesn't hurt?"

"Not the same." Then came the sharp pinch, and Leonard grunted. "Captain."

"Do you know the safe word?" The Captain asked, walking toward the wall and retrieving a thick, round anal plug from one of the shelves.

Leonard nodded. "Chocolate."

"Good." Leonard felt warm hands examining his rock hard cock, his sac, his ass. Fingers probing. "Now let's get started."


	9. Questions and Answers

December 19

Typically Jim liked to work his slaves often, always following up a hard session with something less physical, but more psychological. Ninety percent of building the perfect slave was done inside the head. But the previous day had taken more out of Jim than he wanted to admit. 

The entire session had been backward. Jim's modus operandi was to fuck first, ask questions later. But fuck if he hadn't gotten to know Leonard a little bit, just enough to want more. Jim hadn't been with someone this responsive in years, Leonard trembling with each slow stroke of Jim's cock inside him. Leonard just didn't shut up, a trait that some masters didn't like but Jim loved heard those groans and sighs, as if pulled against his will. 

He'd neglected the aftercare too, rushing Leonard out of the room, sending him back to the slaves' dormitory without a word. A misstep on Jim's part.

 

Distance, that was what Jim needed. He'd been gone too long, out in the world. Jim dropped his guard, let Leonard get inside. Jim just needed to get his head back in the game. 

But that didn't mean Leonard got off scot free today. "Make sure McCoy is worked today," he said to Janice as she went over his day's schedule. 

"Sulu?"

Jim shook his head. "Give him to Spock. I know he was curious." And Spock would be merciless, Jim knew this. 

Then again, if Leonard was the slave Jim suspected he was, that was exactly what Leonard wanted.

 

Jim wandered into Administrative building a little after two that afternoon. Spock's office reminded Jim of those Swiss financiers who'd secured their first loans. Clean and neat, chrome and glass - the only ornament decorating it was the naked woman currently kneeling at Spock's side. Her arms were bound behind her back, wrapped in what Jim could see was a complex geometric pattern. 

"Good to see she ended up in good hands," Jim said as he flopped in one of the chairs front of Spock's desk. 

Spock glanced down at Carol, her breathing even and perfect even as they spoke about her. He reached over, smoothing a stray hair before turning his attention back to Jim. "Her posture needs work, but I think that can be rectified. Also," he began, settling back into his chair, "I wanted to thank you for Leonard this morning."

Jim's face didn't change. "No, thank you. I was bogged down in some paperwork, and couldn't get to him. Glad he was of use to you." 

"Exceedingly. He proved the perfect model during a trainer's class." Spock's small smile spoke volumes. "He really is just barely keeping it together, isn't he? But in the best way, almost like..." Spock paused, trying to find the right word, "It's as if he enjoys it too much, and doesn't know how to deal with that."

Jim's cock started getting hard just listening to Spock talk about Leonard. He wanted to ask more, but didn't. "He's quite… responsive."

"Yes..." Spock eyed Jim for a long moment, then pushed a button on his desk telephone. "I believe Nyota wanted to speak with us together. This seems as good a time as any."

She stepped into Spock's office a moment later, wearing a tight black leather suit. Sitting on Jim's left side, Nyota opened her tablet. "I know we just got a new crop, and they all look good-"

"With that one exception," Spock interrupted, apparently still upset by that betrayal from an old friend.

"With that one exception, yes," Nyota repeated. "But we'll be losing just as many when the next season ends." She tapped her fingers on her knee. "More slaves are asking for one year contracts, and I'm not sure we'll be able to stay competitive if we don't offer that soon."

Jim shook his head. "I disagree. Two years is a good standard length, it gives us time to completely remake them into what we need them to be. One year, that's barely enough time for a body to get used to this place."

"I agree with Jim," Spock added, "but I can see how less time is more attractive to some of the initiates. They don't know what's best for them, at this point in their lives. After all," he arched a brow, "isn't that why they are here? But… perhaps we can offer additional vacation time, based on length of service." 

They discussed a few more matters - additional security concerns. Changing internet providers. Possible thunderstorms later that week. 

"One last thing - and this is personal. Not office business." Both Jim and Spock turned toward Nyota. "Jim, you've seemed a little… out of it since you got back. I was just wondering if everything was okay. Anything happen on your trip that you want to talk about?" Nyota asked, dropping that serious mein so that Jim could see the depth of her concern.

"Nothing's wrong," Jim told her, the lie sliding out easy, and for a moment he felt like he was back in the States, pretending to be someone else, the mask slipping back on. "I dunno, maybe I'm coming down with something. Feeling a little under the weather."

"Your doctor might prove useful there," Spock said in jest, but the smile on Jim's face didn't reach his eyes. 

But why? He didn't need that mask here… "Maybe we'll play Doctor and Patient later."

 

Jim hadn't been completely lying - there was paperwork, loads of it. Enough to keep him occupied that afternoon, though he knew that he should call and have Leonard brought to his rooms for an evening of training. Wasn't right, going too long without personally attending to his slave, but Jim's thoughts were scattered and he didn't want to expose that raw nerve to Leonard.

But - Jim's curiosity had been properly piqued. _Who was this guy?_

Sending Jan back to her room early, he picked up the phone to have his dinner brought to him, then made one more call to the storage room. 

"Bring me Leonard McCoy's luggage. Yes, whatever he brought." Slaves were allowed to bring whatever they wanted, but they couldn't have them until their contracts were fulfilled, two years from now. 

Twenty minutes later, someone arrived with one small suitcase. It wasn't brand new, but it hadn't seen a lot of action either. Leonard didn't travel much, Jim guessed, tossing it onto his bed and opening it up for investigation. 

Some clothes, jeans and t-shirts. Leather wallet with two credit cards, a Georgia driver's licence, and two hundred dollars in twenties. Passport with three stamps, none of them recent.

A pair of well-worn boots, and an old leather brown belt. Small silver flask. Jim opened it, lifted it to his nose and sniffed. An old leather coat that smelled of cologne and smoke. Sure enough, Jim found a nearly new package of Marlboro's and a lighter in the pocket. 

Leonard's profile didn't indicate he smoked, so Jim chalked it up to pre-embarkation nerves. Jim tapped out a cigarette, lit it as he kept rummaging. Small toiletries bag - razor, toothbrush, aftershave. A pocket watch, _LHM_ engraved on the cover. Old fashioned cotton boxers. 

An iPad - Jim laughed as he opened it, no password protection. A few apps - CNN, Netflix, Citibank. A folder called Jo filled with children's games and puzzles. 

Angry Birds.

The iBooks gave Jim a better clue. _Lonesome Dove. The Killer Angels. The Road_. Dark and brooding books by men. Jim knew - he'd read all of them. 

Almost all of them. _Into Thin Air_ by Jon Krakauer. Jim had missed that one. He was wasting time, and he knew it. Work to be done, emails that he was neglecting, but Jim didn't care. Getting to know Leonard, that was work, wasn't it? Ignoring the voices in his head, Jim opened the book, he flopped onto his stomach and began reading. 

Hours passed. Yawning, Jim glanced up and saw the clock over on his desk. _2:12 AM._ How did it get so late? Pushing the book off to the side, Jim rolled over and turned the lights off. 

It was still a long time before he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Unmasked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> contain McCoy/Chapel scene

December 20

 

The Island really was a miracle. Constructed to be a pleasure palace, it certainly lived up to the legend. But subtly. Elegantly, and that was the difference. 

It exuded sex, that much was certain. Every slave, with few exceptions, was nude, some oiled and glistening, others with elaborate hairstyles and made-up faces, and yet others plain and unadorned but for a jeweled chain around their waist, and the gold or leather collar around their neck. Nudity everywhere - and still the sexuality seemed understated. 

But behind the closed doors, that's where the action was. Room, and rooms behind those rooms. Rooms with naked slaves dancing, rooms with slaves dressed in period costumes, voyeur rooms, room with good old-fashioned paddles and crops and clamps. Rooms where group sex happened twenty-four seven, people coming in and people leaving when they finished. 

All of it safe and consensual. That much still amazed Leonard, how well-policed it seemed. Condoms everywhere. The trainers, so seemingly eager with their training crops, watching the initiates with eagle eyes were also fiercely protective of their slaves, and quick to spot a member misbehaving. Leonard learned that the Captain personally took care of those violators - one conversation that succinctly explained the club's policies. 

One chance, that's all anyone got around here. 

 

Leonard woke that morning unsure of what to do with himself. Initiates didn't serve members as personal escorts in their private rooms, not immediately. The first few weeks, until their official training ended, they spent time as waitstaff, greeting members, or general entertaining in the rooms.

The previous day, he'd spent the morning with the Commander, trussed up like a Christmas package and kneeling at Spock's feet while the man hit him all over with a riding crop, so precisely finding each tender area that he wanted to cry. Afterwards, he was sent to one of the bars, where he worked as a barback, keeping it supplied and well stocked (and occasionally dancing on the platform when someone recognized him from that first awful day). 

But no instructions today. The other initiates in his room had been given schedules with either duties or training. "What should I do?" he asked Mister Scott, the trainer in charge of their floor. 

"I haven't heard anything in particular this morning," he answered. "The Captain's just returned, I'm sure he'll have something regular set up soon for you." The sharp-eyed man sized Leonard up, looking him up and down - or maybe admiring the lingering marks from the previous day. "Tell you what, head over to the baths and saunas. Can always use more help there."

"Yes sir," Leonard answered, double checking the location of the baths before heading that way. 

 

The morning passed quickly, not many people stopping by. Staff brought lunch trays for both Leonard and Christine, the other slave assigned to the baths that day, and during their quiet times, she answered some of the questions he'd had about the place… and about the Captain. One of the most popular trainers here, Leonard was finding out. Everyone seemed to like him - but no one could really _knew_ much about him, beyond the blue eyes and quick hands. 

It got busier after lunch, when two gentlemen walked in, fresh from the swimming pool, requesting company in the steam room. After some light conversation, one of the men pulled Christine onto his lap, fucking her with a quiet urgency while Leonard sucked off the other man. Later, a couple walked in, clearly wrapped up in each other but wanting to watch Leonard and Christine perform oral sex on each other.

After a few hours, he was dismissed, again without any work time scheduled for the Captain, so he headed back toward the game rooms. 

The evening was drawing to a close when Mister Scott approached Leonard. "The Captain's room, now." Leonard nodded, then headed toward the staff quarters building. Breathing heavy as the elevator rose up to the top floor, he tried not to appear too excited, not until he knew what the Captain's mood was like. 

But he wanted to see him. Badly. 

Fuck. 

He knocked twice at the door, then knelt on one knee, eyes down, unsure how the Captain wanted to be greeted. The door opened, a mixture of amusement and approval in his words. "Hello Leonard."

"Captain." Leonard felt a touch to his cheek, and he looked up and saw a tired face staring back down at him, dark circles under his eyes. The Captain's black shirt was unbuttoned and open, giving Leonard a peek at his well-formed body. "How can I serve you tonight?"

The Captain chuckled low, stepping away from the door. "Come," he said, heading into his living area. "What did you do today?"

"The baths," Leonard replied, "and the game room."

"Good," the Captain said, taking a long swig from his glass of beer. "And the Commander?" he asked, flopping onto his sofa.

"Not today," Leonard answered, unsettled, unsure what to do. "He worked with me yesterday."

"Had you tied up, I imagine," the Captain said, and Leonard nodded. "The man loves his ropes."

Leonard got that impression. Spock had been methodical and relentless about his knotwork. "I waited for you… for instruction."

The Captain didn't answer, not for a long moment. Finally, "You aren't my only project, Leonard."

Fuck... that put him in his place. Leonard tried not to show how those words affected him, but he'd never been particularly good at the blank slate, and those words hurt more than he expected. "Sorry, Captain," Leonard murmured, looking up and catching his eye.

That wasn't the right move. "Don't look at me." 

Leonard's eyes dropped, but apparently that wasn't enough. "Come here," the Captain growled, standing and walking toward his bedroom, a revelation in itself. There were the usual equipment, a long chain hanging from the ceiling, a collection of crops and paddles on his walls, a coil of rope on the floor next to his bed. But there were also bookshelves, filled from floor to ceiling. A collection of model ships that Leonard longed to investigate closer. An expensive-looking telescope.

All of it added to Leonard's curiosity, but his attention quickly shifted, the Captain opened a drawer and pulled out leather cuffs, fastening them to Leonard's wrist with an alacrity that startled him. 

This wasn't the same man who worked with him the other day. That man had been curious and methodical. Right now, the Captain was angry and it showed. "Fucking sassy slave," he said, hoisting Leonard's arms up as he knelt on the floor. "I'll show you what to do with that mouth."

 

"Again."

Leonard inhaled deeply and opened wide, the Captain's cock sliding deeper inside his mouth as the Captain counted quietly to himself. "Eight, nine, ten, eleven… oh yes, just like that, all of it." Leonard's eyes watered as he felt that thick blunt head push against the back of his throat, the taste of latex, large hands holding Leonard's head firmly in place. He couldn't move if he wanted to. "Yes, I like it when you're quiet like this..."

The Captain pulled out quickly, chuckling as Leonard gagged, trying not to fall over from his kneeling position. "You have beautiful lips, Leonard," he said, rubbing his cock against them. "You should suck cock all day..." Flattering, but at the moment Leonard wasn't entirely sure the Captain was being complementary or just fucking with his head - literally. "Last time, baby," he crooned, thrusting in and out a few times before pulling Leonard's face right up against his groin, groaning loud as he came hard. 

 

Leonard was still kneeling when the Captain came out of the bathroom. It was the first time the man been completed naked in front of Leonard, and Leonard had trouble looking away. 

The Captain walked first toward his desk, checking his computer for a moment before returning to his bed. He lay down, twisting his back and staring up at the ceiling, sighing loud. "You wear me out, Leonard. I'm quite impressed."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Stand." Leonard slowly rose, the ropes suspending his arms tightening as he stood, allowing him no real movement. He felt the Captain's eyes focus on his erection, hard and red in front of him. "You wanna take care of that?"

Leonard's head bowed, arms starting to ache badly. "If it pleases you, Captain."

"...it might. Depends what you plan on doing with it." The Captain sat up, stroking his own flaccid cock a few times. "Could let you jack off, though…" The Captain's face got pensive. "I should watch you with someone else. To see how you move. What your face looks like."

Leonard didn't speak, although his stomach twisted in strange anticipation and fear. 

"There are some beautiful slaves here. A man or a woman?" Leonard's face looked up at that last work, and the Captain noticed. "Not a lady, eh? They are lovely, and I promise, before the week ends I will watch one of them fuck you senseless." The Captain leaned forward toward Leonard. "You won't like that, will you?"

He kept his eyes down. "If it pleases you, Captain."

"That's not the answer I want, Leonard. Give me the truth." The Captain stood, reaching for a paddle on the wall and moving closer to Leonard. "It would also please me to see you with a man. I wonder… for all your growling and bluster, what is it like when you take charge?" 

He touched Leonard's arms, stroking down his torso, standing in front of Leonard, close enough that he felt the warm breath on his face. "What would you do if I gave you the chance to fuck a man, a strong and powerful man. Would you even know how to take him, how to make him yours completely?" The Captain's mouth slid around to Leonard's ear, whispering. "Or do you just take it up the ass like a good boy?"

"Whatever pleases-"

"No." Leonard felt the sting of the paddle. "Be truthful, Leonard." A pause. "How would you fuck me? I want to know."

Shit. "Um..." Leonard stammered, taking a breath. The Captain circled him, like a predator. "I'd… I'd bend you over- "

_Swat_. "I can't hear you," the Captain murmured low. 

"Bend you over," Leonard answered louder, jaw clenching as the cool wood of the paddle caressed his reddened skin, "over there, against that wall." 

"Lies." _Swat_.

Fuck, that stung. "I'd spread that pretty ass of yours with my hands, my fingers, my tongue." Leonard's eyes closed, picturing it in his head. The Captain, hard and naked under him, writhing and pinned down, fighting him. "Fuck you into that mattress over there, pounding that ass of yours 'til you screamed my name."

Leonard felt that paddle strike him hard again. His eyes flew open and this time he lunged back at the Captain, pulling at the restraints and growling. He braced for another strike but instead of feeling that paddle again, the latch clicked open, and the ropes suddenly went slack. Arms burning and aching, he turned and stared into the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, the two men glaring at each other and something _snapped_. 

Leonard's hands flew up, cradling the Captain's face, their mouths crashing together so hard it hurt, lips and teeth and tongues. Pushing the Captain backwards, Leonard shoved him onto his big bed and rolled him over roughly on to his stomach. Moving on pure instinct, all reason and rules flew out the window as Leonard pushed himself into the Captain's tight body. 

Christ, it had been a long time since he'd felt that tightness, that heat like a glove. The Captain twitched and groaned with each hard thrust and soon, he wasn't the Captain anymore, just a man, a perfect body stretched out under him, muscles quivering. Out of the corner of his eye, Leonard spotted a bottle of lube and he squeezed it onto himself, watching it glisten as his shaft disappeared into that ass. He grabbed at his hips, pulling back with each stroke, easier now, pushing the Captain's arching back down until he found that angle, in and out, over and over, faster and faster until he emptied deep, panting and grunting loud.

For the longest moment neither of them moved, just the sound of their breaths filling the empty room. When the reality of what happened began to dawn on Leonard, he froze, pulling himself out slowly. But the Captain hadn't moved, hadn't turned, his hands still fisting the sheets. Unwilling to break the moment just yet, Leonard lay down, settling over the Captain and spooning him from the back, waiting. 

Then the Captain turned, finding Leonard's mouth and kissing him, soft and wet and more tender than Leonard imagined. Endless kisses, making all of this more surreal.

 

Leonard woke up suddenly. He'd dozed, and from the look of it so did his trainer. "...Captain?" he murmured, unsettled and unsure and positive he'd just fucked everything up.

"Jim... call me Jim," the other man said sleepily, tucking his neck against Leonard's. 

"...Jim." But Leonard didn't say anything else, just tightened his arms around Jim, and soon they were both asleep.


	11. Road Trip

December 21

 

Jim blinked.

Two thoughts immediately popped into his head. 

First, the sun was shining. Normally, Jim was up and moving early, either hitting the gym or early morning workouts with the slaves. But he could see sunlight peeking through the edges of his window blinds. Jim was trying to mentally calculate what time it was when two strong arms wrapped tight around him, pulling him close, and he felt warm breath on the back of his neck.

Leonard. His second thought was that Jim didn't want to move.

Leonard. He shouldn't be here, Jim knew that immediately. It wasn't unheard of for slaves to spend the night with their masters, though trainers didn't often do this with newbies. Leonard wouldn't know any different. Many kinds of masters wanted this affection, the warm body next to them at night, the sleepy morning sex it provided. 

But Leonard couldn't know that Jim didn't do this, that he _never_ let anyone spend the night with him, much less fuck him raw like that. _But it felt so good._

Jim felt the other man rubbing slowly against his aching ass, and he couldn't help the smile when Leonard growled softly. _Proud slave_ , that had been right on the money. So presumptuous, even now in his sleepy haze. Jim rolled over and kissed Leonard, warm and sleepy and sour, burying his face in Leonard's neck for a few more minutes before he pulled away. "C'mon."

Jim walked them into his over-sized shower. Pressing Leonard face-first against the cool tile, Jim began slowly finger-fucking him, staying shallow and feeling for that bulb of nerves inside Leonard. Learning Leonard's body was part of his training, Jim kept telling himself, trying to ignore the sounds Leonard made, the way he shuddered against Jim. 

Reaching for a condom and then pushing himself into Leonard's tight body was something entirely different. Lacing their fingers together, he raised their joined hands above Leonard's head and thrust slow, over and over until they both shuddered slow under the jets of hot water.

Jim got out of the shower first, allowing Leonard a few minutes of privacy while he tried to collect his thoughts. In the last twelve hours, Jim had broken two of his own rules regarding training (three, if you count the name thing). This wasn't just Jim being off his game - his thoughts were so scattered right now he wasn't sure where to start. The job, the island, the slaves, his family, Leonard - and that lingering doubt that something was _wrong_. 

That he was _wrong_.

He had to get out of here. 

Leonard stood in the doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist just as Jim got off the phone, asking for his plane to be made ready. "Everything okay?" Leonard asked, using a q-tip to clean his ears as Jim tossed some clothes into a bag. 

"Everything's fine," Jim replied, voice even and steady. "But something's come up, and I need to get out of here for a few days." Now that the decision had been made, Jim felt better. Back in command. Like his old self. "...want to come?" 

Leonard was quiet as he approached Jim, unsure of his role. "...is that allowed?" he asked.

"Sure," Jim told him, pointing at Leonard's bags. "I had those brought up. I mean, I can't force you to come," Jim continued. "But I'd like the company." 

A long moment passed before Leonard said anything, and Jim knew he would say no. Leonard would know that was a lie. It went against every tenet of The Island, taking a slave off-premises and Leonard had just gotten here. He'd come here for the experience, to be pushed and pulled and undone and remade over and over again, and Jim was taking him away from that. 

"What time do we leave?"

 

Twenty minutes later, Jim and Leonard were on the tarmac. Leonard hesitated when he saw the plane. "That's... not very big." Jim thought that he might not get on board, but he followed Jim up the stairs and into the plane. "I don't see a pilot."

Jim grinned, that tight feeling leaving him like it always did once he got on board his plane. "Yes, you do." The look on Leonard's face was priceless. "Buckle up, you bag of bones."

"Fuck," Leonard murmured as he settled into the co-pilot's chair. "Where we going?"

 

They were going to New Orleans. 

Four hours later Jim's small plane landed at a private landing strip outside the city, owned by a long-standing member of the club. One of the employees drove them to the nearest car rental agencies, and soon they were heading into town in a sleek black Escalade. "Didn't think I'd be back so soon," Leonard murmured, looking out the passenger window as they crossed the Mississippi River. 

"You come here a lot?"

"No, just stopped off for a visit before I got picked up by the yacht." Since they'd left, neither man had mentioned The Island, and Leonard's mouth tightened.

Jim didn't want to think about what he'd left behind, not right now. "You like Bourbon Street?"

"It's okay. I like music." 

"You like to gamble?" The slow smile that spread across Leonard's face told Jim all he needed to know. 

 

They were in luck - one of the penthouse suites at Harrah's was unoccupied. Jim showed the front desk clerks a special card he possessed, courtesy of one of the club members, which got them moved upstairs immediately. Despite Leonard's mild protesting, Jim loved the expression on his face when he saw the lavish room and their over-sized bed overlooking the Mississippi River.

Jim caught a hot streak on the craps tables, almost tripling his initial buy in until he went cold. No matter. In truth, he had more fun watching Leonard sitting in on a high stakes poker game, spending two hours with the same straight poker face, not giving away a single thought in his head. "Not bad, Bones," Jim said, standing behind Leonard as he cashed in his tray of chips. 

Leonard grinned wide at that, the first real expression on his face since he sat down to play. Looking down at his pocket watch, he nudged Jim's arm. "Can I buy you dinner?" There was a Ruth's Chris steakhouse in the hotel, and they ate well, moving from topic to topic with a fluidity that surprised Jim. Too long he'd been unable to talk to anyone without hiding who he was, except for people on the Island - and on the Island, all they talked about was Island business. Leonard really was well conversant, and they talked about everything from sports, politics, to the price of gas. 

The food was good, but the company was better, and when they got back to their room there was a comfortable silence as they prepared for bed. Jim could not recall the last time he slept in a bed with another person and _didn't_ fuck them, but they were both tired and full, and it had been a long day. 

Leonard curled against Jim's back, arms winding tight. "This okay, Captain?" Jim heard Leonard ask quietly, murmuring against his shoulder. 

Jim squeezed Leonard's arm. "Yeah," he answered, stifling a yawn long enough to turn his head, kissing Leonard's mouth. "And it's just Jim, right now, while we're here." For the first time in forever, Jim didn't want to be the Captain. Head falling back onto his pillow, he felt Leonard sigh against him, and all he wanted to be was _here_. 

 

Jim opened his eyes at the feel of those arms around him, a sensation that was becoming dangerously familiar. But his eye caught sight of a red blinking light on the telephone - a message - and he was filled with a sense of dread. _They found me._

Of course they found him, Jim had all but announced his presence here. He'd turned off his cell phone but that didn't mean he'd escaped. "Shower then we hit the road, okay?"

"Leaving already?" Leonard yawned, stretching as his long legs flopped off the bed. "Thought you wanted-"

"Changed my mind." Jim realized his words came out too fast. "Just... we need to go."

Leonard stood, nodding slow. "Okay, Jim." Reaching for Jim's hand, he tugged Jim into the shower, the two men playfully washing each other. Leonard still looked at Jim with that shy smile, so fucking intriguing… Jim knew Leonard must be confused as hell about all of this, but by silent agreement, neither man talked about how this whole adventure wasn't quite right. 

 

Leonard sat behind the wheel as they drove out of town, up Interstate 10. "Where we heading?" he asked, turning on the heater and flipping the radio until he found a country and western station he liked, something appropriately twangy.

Jim just laughed as he reclined the seat back, comfortable in ways he hadn't been in months. "Dallas," he announced, as if he'd just decided the next stop on their impromptu road trip.

"Ah, good choice. I know a great barbecue place there," Leonard replied, turning the music up and singing along when he knew the words. Jim watched for a little while as the miles passed, the landscape green and at times, quite swampy. So different from what he was used to, all the while Jim waiting for Leonard to ask him what was going on. 

But he never asked. 

 

They made good time, hitting Dallas city limits a little after three, and checking into a less extravagant hotel (this time paying cash). Jim requested that his name be kept private and that he receive no messages, and tried to ignore Leonard's worried face as they grabbed their bags and headed up the elevator to their room. 

A quick nap and they were back out, Leonard driving again since he had a little familiarity with the town. "You said shopping? Like a mall?" Leonard asked, getting onto one of the expressways, looking around as if trying to recall the area. 

"Yeah," Jim told him, taking a deep breath. "Christmas in a few days. Thought about going to see my family." Iowa. Snow. Feelings. All that shit. 

"Really?" Leonard asked, staring at him with a quiet curiosity, as if he didn't want to ask too many questions.

"Yeah." Jim stared out the window at all the traffic, the skies getting darker even though it wasn't that late. "Oughta bring gifts, right?"

"Yeah, right, especially if there's any kids." 

Jim chuckled to himself. "A couple nephews. Good boys. Um…" Jim hesitated, not sure how to ask - hell, not sure he wanted to ask. "...I'd like you to come with me, if you didn't mind." 

If Leonard seemed surprised at that, he held it in. "You sure?" he asked, tilting his head to look closer at Jim's face. 

"Yeah," he nodded, a little sheepish. "I'd really rather not deal with them alone."

"Is it bad?"

"No, not at all," Jim began quickly. "Fuck, it'd be easier to stay away if it was. But they're good people. Really good people." 

"Then what's wrong, Jim?"

But Jim didn't know how to answer that, and Leonard let it rest. 

 

After shopping, Leonard drove them to a smoky barbecue joint west of downtown, the two men splitting an ungodly amount of brisket and ribs. They drank bottles of cold Shiner Bock and watched football on a big screen television, toasting the Cowboys every time they scored.

Back in their hotel room, they immediately fell into bed, Jim letting Leonard take the lead tonight. Clothes were playfully tugged off, tossed to the floor, and Leonard pushed Jim back onto the bed, sliding into him slow and deep. _Fuck yes,_ Jim thought, his hands grabbed at the sides of the bed, fisting the sheets. Maybe this is what he needed, to just let go and be taken, fucked senseless, used like a piece of fuckmeat - like the old days, before he was the Captain. Leonard seemed to understand this, pulling Jim up onto his hands and knees, his hands possessively grasping at Jim's skin, digging deep into his flesh as they fucked harder and rougher. 

One of Leonard's hands slid forward, covering Jim's mouth, then dropped to Jim's throat. Something snapped inside Jim at that touch, muscle memory triggered and he dropped his forehead to the mattress. His body went slack, a surrendering posture and Leonard apparently fucking liked that, growling as he pumped harder and faster into Jim's ass, still holding him steady by the neck. Crying out louder and louder with each hard thrust, Leonard groaned as he came, falling onto Jim's back, panting and out of breath. 

Jim lay still, caught up in his own thoughts when Leonard rolled Jim towards him, kissing him hard, one hand slipping down to stroke Jim's cock and soon he was coming too, clinging to Leonard like a lifeline.

 

Jim opened his eyes. Leonard's face was so close, their noses brushing, this kiss tender, followed by another just as soft. They cleaned up and crawled under the thick blankets, legs tangled and Leonard's head on Jim's chest. So normal and yet... how could someone like Jim ever be _normal_?

That warning voice in the back of Jim's head was shushed, ignored for now, and he fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #11: [Up The Wolves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=agbCspmBSWk) by the Mountain Goats


	12. Christmas

December 24

 

Leonard had never been to Iowa.

They drove in shifts, picking up some breakfast tacos and hitting the road at dawn, the air crisper and colder than Leonard had expected. "So, when were you there last?" he asked as they headed north out of town. 

"A while," Jim answered, wolfing down his food quickly. "Four years, maybe five. I mean, I talk to them all, email and stuff. But I don't… I mean, I just don't go visit." Jim leaned back in his leather seat. "It's a long story."

"It's a long drive," Leonard answered, glancing over at Jim, a genuine look of curiosity and concern on his face. "Tell me." 

Leonard didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't Jim's story of a mother and father, high school sweethearts who married after she graduated from college and he got back from his tour of duty and quickly started their family. "Dad was a firefighter," Jim said, staring out the side of the window. "Died in a fire when I was just a baby, fuck, I don't even think I was a month old. Mom, she-" Jim shrugged. "Must've been hard, you know? Toddler and a baby and no one to help."

Leonard was quiet, not sure what to say. "Anyway, she did her best..." Jim shrugged. "Worked hard, kept us fed and dressed. But it wasn't enough for me, so I left. Fuck, I was such a selfish little prick."

"You did what you had to, Jim."

Jim sighed. "Maybe. Still hurt them, though. Never been close, not since I left." He laughed bitterly. "Can't exactly explain my lifestyle, you know?" Jim laughed bitterly. "Makes for awkward silences at the dinner table, me avoiding all the personal questions."

Leonard nodded, staring ahead as he drove. "...yeah, I know." That familiar feeling, the constant mask.

Jim was quiet a long time. Then, "Your turn." Not a question, but there was that tone again. The Captain, maybe, just reminding Leonard who was in charge - and Leonard knew what Jim wanted. 

So Leonard spoke. He said a few words about when he was young, discovering his need to be submissive and how he buried deep that side of him. How he met Boyce, then he got married, then divorced - finding his way once more back to that old southern mansion, those richly decorated rooms. The ropes and the paddles. "Once my dad died, I guess I just didn't care anymore. No one bothered worrying about my private life, what I did with my weekends."

"Can't keep it a total secret, Bones. At least not for long - unless you live someplace like the Island."

Leonard grimaced as they headed toward Joplin city limits. "Why do you call me that?"

"Bones?" Jim laughed. "It pleases me." When Leonard's face still looked irritated, Jim's hand slid over to Leonard's thigh. "You're my old bag of bones."

"Hmpf," Leonard muttered, but didn't argue. "Anyway, I figured, _hoped_ really that going to the Island might get it out of my system, once and for all."

"That's not what usually happens, in my expert opinion," Jim answered, grinning.

Leonard shrugged. "It was a thought."

Twenty minutes passed before either man spoke. "Why did you say you couldn't love a man."

Leonard looked up at that, surprised at the question. "Didn't say I couldn't love one, just… you ever been in love, Jim?" How to explain what that did to a man. "You know that stupid feeling you get, when you'd throw away your whole world just to be with that one person?" Leonard's face went introspective. " I don't think its the same with men. Maybe its a pride thing, or we don't like to show weakness. I dunno," Leonard finally shrugged again. "Those terrible, tender thoughts, wanting to protect and take care of another person. It's … it's just not the same when I'm with a man."

"Because you're the one giving up control?" Jim guessed. 

Leonard was surprised he hadn't figured that out for himself faster. "...I guess. " Was that it? That Leonard needed to let someone else be in control, at least some of the time. But with Jim - with Jim, they both ceded control seamlessly.

Tenderly. 

Jim's hand stroked his thigh absently, comforting. "And now we're here," Jim replied. There was that look again, the one where Leonard wasn't entirely sure Jim had an actual plan. He wanted to ask what was going on, what they were doing here, why being with his family was so important to Jim all of a sudden. 

But he didn't.

 

They crossed the Iowa state line a little before five in the afternoon, and Jim took over for the final hour. He didn't speak much, and Leonard understood that this was hard for Jim. The sun had just gone down when they pulled off the highway onto a dirt road, and drove for another half-mile or so until they reached a farm house and barn that looked right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. "You grew up here?"

"Yep," Jim said, his voice tight. Leonard reached over and covered Jim's hand with his own, giving it a little squeeze before they got out of the truck. A golden retriever ran out of the barn, jumping and dancing in front of Jim. "Hey girl, how are you?" he asked, bending down and petting her. 

"Your dog?"

"Mom's dog... but she always liked me. Must be eleven, twelve years, same age as one of my nephews-" Jim stopped talking as the front door opened up and a woman stepped out, blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. 

"Jimmy, is that you?"

Jim looked down, clearly uncomfortable with that name, but Leonard grinned. "Hi Mom," Jim said, walking up to her, kissing her cheek.

"Wasn't expecting you this year. I thought you were working straight through the holidays again."

"I got some time off. This is Leonard," Jim said, reaching down and tugging Leonard toward his mother, who looked down at their clasped hands, an unreadable look on her face. 

"Hello, ma'am," Leonard said, pulling his hand out of Jim's grasp to extend it toward his mother. 

"Winona, please," she said, taking Leonard's hand. She didn't look as old as Leonard imagined, but weathered, tired. "You two come inside, the wind's been gusting all morning and I can't keep the house warm with the door open." Each of them carried their bags inside, dropped them off in Jim's old room. "You'll have to share," she told Jim dryly, looking at him carefully. 

"We'll manage. Thanks, Mom," he replied. She looked at each of them one last time before heading downstairs. 

Jim closed the door. "Sorry 'bout that," he mumbled, dropping his bag on the bed. 

Leonard sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around Jim's room. It looked like any teenager's room - posters on the wall, a couple guitars in the closet. Bookshelf full of books and little models of cars and airplanes. "So... this is you."

"Used to be." Jim sat down next to Leonard. "Five years and she hasn't changed it, not a bit. This... this is who they think I am."

"And who do you think you are?" Leonard asked, pulling Jim closer, playfully. 

But Jim didn't have an answer to that. 

 

Jim didn't have a lot of answers for anyone, so Leonard found himself doing most of the talking at dinner that night. Winona seemed impressed enough when she discovered that Leonard was a doctor. "So you have your own practice down where you're from?" she asked, piling both their plates with pork chops and potatoes. 

"I do," Leonard answered, digging into his meal. "I'm on a temporary leave for a bit, while I do some traveling."

"That must be nice, to get to travel," she said, her eyes darting between her plate and the two of them.

"I had some money left to me, and I didn't feel like putting it all in a bank." Leonard felt the dog wandering around under the table, and tried not to laugh as Jim got scolded for dropping food onto the floor for her. "Most of it's going to my daughter, her college fund and all."

Winona's eyes widened. "A daughter. Have you met her?" she asked Jim, taking a bite of her potatoes.

"No," Jim shook his head. "Not yet." Leonard looked over at Jim, their eyes catching for a moment. 

 

"Jim Kirk, farm boy." Leonard helped Jim push the barn door open, his nostrils suddenly filled with the smells of animals, dirt and dung and hay. "If the people on The Island only knew..." 

"Shut up," Jim told him, but there was no malice in his voice. Standing in the middle of the barn, he looked up, his voice low as he spoke. "I hated this place growing up. Just wanted to be as far away from here as I could."

"You got your wish." Leonard followed Jim toward the back, where it got really dark, and suddenly he felt himself falling, landing in a pile of something sharp and dry. Jim's hands slid under his shirt, Jim's weight pinning him down. "A roll in the hay? You got any idea how cliche this is?" Leonard laughed against Jim's skin. "It's cold as fuck out here."

Jim picked up his head, and Leonard could barely make out his features in the moonlight. "You wanna try this in that little bed, my mom across the hall?" Jim asked him, dipping his head for another soft kiss. 

Leonard deepened it, spreading his legs wider as Jim's hands began undoing his pants. Jim slid down Leonard's body, mouthing at any exposed skin he could find, taking Leonard's cock into his mouth. 

Jim pulled back long enough to shush Leonard when he got too loud, and Leonard spent the next few minutes biting his lip, one hand tangled in Jim's hair and when he exploded in Jim's mouth, he couldn't help the strangled groan, silenced only when Jim kissed him, the taste of Leonard still on his tongue.

 

That night they both piled into Jim's bed, squeezing under the weight of two grown men - but they managed. 

 

The kitchen was warm and toasty when Jim and Leonard headed down that morning, Winona putting the final touches on the Christmas turkey before sliding it into the oven. 

Jim's brother Sam and his family arrived around ten that morning from Chicago, bearing presents and baked goods. Soon the house was filled with laughter and conversation and children, and as much as Leonard tried to stay off to the side, inconspicuous, no one let him get too far. 

 

It had been a while since Leonard sat down at a family dinner table like this, three generations of Jim's family tucking into a delicious holiday meal. "This is amazing," he told Winona, as he filled his plate. "Thank you for letting me share this with you."

"You're the first person he's ever brought home to meet Mom. Must be special," Sam said, reaching for another roll, tearing it into two before stuffing a piece into his mouth and offering a small piece to Alex, a little boy around three years old. "Jim never talks about his life, we all thought there was some deep dark secret."

"Sam, be nice," Aurelan told him, "or Jim and Leonard won't come back."

"Just messing with my kid brother. He knows I love him." There was a strong resemblance between the two men, but Leonard suspected their relationship had been rocky when they were kids. "Jim always seems to be working on that cruise ship of his, out of the country, out of touch with the rest of the world. How did you guys get to meet?"

"Oh, um, well one of the passengers had a heart attack. I was on board, vacationing, and just helped out until the ship's doctor got there. Jim here came to thank me, and..." Leonard shrugged, grinning softly as he repeated the story they'd made up in case someone asked. "I guess we just hit it off."

Aurelan smiled brightly. "That's sweet. It's special when it's like that, when you just meet someone and you know." 

"Like you and Dad?" Peter piped up, glancing at his mother. 

But it was his father than answered. "Ha, no way, Pete. Your mom hated me, made me chase her for a year before she realized how much she loved me."

"I was hungry, and you offered to buy me pizza," Aurelan countered. "You caught me in a weak moment."

"It was like that for George and me." Everyone turned toward Winona, who hadn't said much at dinner. "I dropped a book and he helped me pick it up, and I just looked into his eyes, big and blue like Jimmy's," she looked over at him, and Leonard saw him smile back at her, blushing, "and we both knew. It was silly, but it was love, right then and there."

No one else spoke for a moment, then she added, "He'd be so proud of you boys, all grown and professional, off doing good in the world."

"He'd be proud of you, Mom," Jim said quietly, "taking care of this place all on your own." The table went silent and Leonard realized how powerful those few words were between them. 

 

Sam shooed everyone but Jim out of the kitchen, so the rest of them headed toward the living room, helping Peter arrange the presents so that he could pass them out to everyone, the designated Santa Claus. Jim and Sam joined them, and soon the room was filled with tissue paper and gift wrap. Leonard was touched when he had a small pile of his own, guessing that Winona had called Sam the night before and alerted him. A hand knit scarf, a bottle of bourbon, and a gift card - just enough that Leonard felt warm and comfortable, and wanted to know more about these people who Jim called family. 

 

Leonard hadn't meant to get engrossed in the basketball game, but Sam Kirk was a passionate Chicago Bulls fan, so he ended up talking and watching with him for the better part of an hour before he realized Jim wasn't joining them. Excusing himself, he went looking for Jim, finally finding him out behind in the barn where they'd been the previous day. 

"What's goin' on, Jim?" he asked, zipping up his jacket. "Hidin'?" he asked jokingly, until he saw that look on Jim's face. 

Jim didn't answer at first, exhaling deeply, his breath visible. "I don't know... I needed to come back here, to prove something."

"To them?"

"Maybe to myself." Jim grinned. "And it's Christmas, you know? Felt like the right thing to do."

"I'm glad you came, Jim." Leonard leaned against barn. "Your mom didn't know about you, being with guys, did she?"

"Guess not. Things are different here. People don't think like we do, they don't have those ideas, those desires. Or worse, they do and they keep them hidden, make sex something dirty and shameful. I could never talk about what I wanted, or who I wanted, or what I wanted to do. People just looked at me like I was a freak." Jim shrugged. "So I left."

"But you found what you needed, right?"

"I found me. I found the Captain."

"Boyce used to tell me that the best trainers were always good slaves first." Leonard looked around. "But this looks like you, too. Your family, they're good people. They didn't run and scream when they saw me with you." Leonard kicked at a rock on the ground. "Maybe you're not giving them enough credit." 

"And if they knew what I did?"

Leonard shrugged. Neither man spoke - maybe they didn't need to. Pulling Leonard closer, Jim tucked his face against Leonard's neck and they held on to each other as a light snow began to fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #12: [We're Going To Be Friends](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKfD8d3XJok) by The White Stripes


	13. Takeoff

December 26  
Riverside, Iowa

 

Jim woke up alone. 

It worried him that being alone bothered him. Jim had spent the better part of his adult life waking up alone, and five days with Leonard McCoy had changed that. 

It irritated him, in a way. Finding his pajama pants, Jim scratched his head as stopped off in the bathroom to wash his face and teeth before heading downstairs, following the sounds of people talking and laughing. 

"Morning," Aurelan called out to him, sitting at the small table in the kitchen, drinking coffee and reading from her phone while Alex ate cereal in an old plastic bowl Jim recognized from his youth. Jim spotted his mom and Sam outside, walking the fence line, the dog's wagging tail signalling their location. "Coffee?" Aurelan asked, pointing at half-filled pot.

"No, I'm good," he said, shuffling out and into the living area. Bones was sitting on the floor next to Peter, who'd apparently hooked up his new PS4 to the television set. "What's that?" he asked, watching the screen filled with people killing zombies with chainsaws and shotguns. 

"Left For Dead," Peter replied, his eyes not leaving the screen. "Over there," he added to Leonard, who immediately began targeting some creatures, their heads quickly blown off.

Jim's eyes widened. "Jesus," he murmured. "Your mom lets you play this?" he asked.

Peter shrugged. "It's just zombies. Mom says I just can't play online with other people," said Peter. "And Leonard said he knew how to play."

Leonard had the grace to look a little embarrassed before refocusing his attention on the screen. Jim watched the two of them for a few more minutes before standing and quickly heading upstairs. 

 

Twenty minutes later, he was finishing his shower when he heard the door open. "Got room for one more?"

"There's some space," Jim answered, and felt Leonard slip in behind him. "Not much room," he admitted, turning his body and letting Leonard kiss his neck, strong arms wrapping around him. 

"Your mom made breakfast," Leonard murmured against his skin. "She left you a plate."

The words felt like a chastisement, albeit a gentle one. "Wasn't hungry."

"You okay?"

"I don't know... this is wrong. This feels wrong."

Leonard's face wrinkled up this this frown that would've made Jim laugh, if he didn't feel so annoyed. "What - what are you talking about?" 

"This isn't me. That guy, the one who they think I am? The dutiful professional son who comes home at Christmas with his doctor boyfriend-" Leonard looked up at that word, and Jim immediately regretted saying it. "I'm just saying, this is a lie, all of it. Not fair to them, or to you, or to me." The water started to get cold, but Jim didn't move, not until Leonard turned off the faucet. "I want to go."

Leonard handed him a towel. "Go where?"

"I don't know, anywhere." Jim wrapped it around his waist. "Just wanna leave."

"You mean _leave_ leave?"

"Yeah. Something's wrong, I just need to go." Jim caught Leonard's face in his hands, searching his eyes. "I got a place in San Francisco, we could stay there for a few days.

Leonard's eyes were dark and worried. "And then what, Jim?" 

"Haven't figured out that far," Jim admitted. "You don't have to come with me, you can go back-"

"Stop it, Jim."

"It's not fair to you, I know this-"

"Jim." Leonard grabbed his hands, the two of them staring at each other. "It's too late to start talking to me like that."

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. "Hurry up, boys," they heard Winona call out. 

"Sorry," Jim replied loud, looking at Leonard as he spoke. "Be out soon."

 

An hour later, they were packed up and ready to go. "Wish you didn't have to leave so soon," Winona told them, Jim watching his mom give Leonard a special hug, "but I hope your daughter is okay."

"I think it's just a broken arm," Leonard told her, as Sam helped Jim pack up their car. "But when a little girl wants her daddy..."

"No, you guys should go. But be safe," Aurelan told them both, kissing them on the cheek. "Take care of each other, okay?" 

Sam clapped Jim on the shoulder. "And keep in touch. Don't be a stranger, little brother." Jim tried hard not to flinch at the words, but he knew he couldn't keep that promise. Not after this. 

 

There was a twelve o'clock non-stop out of Cedar Rapids, and they made it with minutes to spare. Neither man had spoken much on the drive to the airport, but now that they were belted in their seats and in the air, Leonard turned to Jim. "Talk to me."

Luckily they were alone in their row, but that didn't mean Jim felt like talking. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Tell me what I can do to help you."

"There isn't anything you can do. Fuck," he said, his voice low, "if I knew what I wanted, I wouldn't be having this problem." Leaning back into the seat, Jim laughed bitterly. "None of it make sense. And this stupid trip up here, I mean, that didn't help." Leonard looked confused, so Jim continued. "I went home to prove to myself that I'm okay without them, and what happened? Mom, my brother - they were great! Super nice to me, and they fucking _loved_ you," Jim groaned to himself. "I've built my whole life around the idea that I'm different, I'm right and they're all wrong."

"What about the Island, Jim?"

"What about it?"

"Are you going back?"

Jim didn't speak for a few moments. Then, "...You only get one chance." One chance. That's all they gave you on the Island. No one knew that better than Jim. 

And he'd fucked it up royally. Maybe on purpose, Jim wondered to himself. 

Leonard's brow arched. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"It's not nothing." Leonard waited until the flight attendant took their drink orders before continuing, his voice low but still agitated. "What about me, Jim?"

"What about you, Leonard?" Jim snorted bitterly. "You know what I did, what they're gonna do when they find out. I can't go back, I took a sla-" Jim stopped before he said the word, but looking at Leonard, he felt all the implications of what happened suddenly settle on his shoulders. "I took _you_. That's the big one, the one rule there's no going back from. Fuck, I can't even be a part of your life anymore, and you know that," he murmured, that idea twisting inside Jim, hurting far more than he imagined it would. 

Leonard didn't speak. Finally, "I don't guess I get any say in this."

Jim turned his head toward him. "Legally, no, not really."

"Fuck legally." Leonard reached for Jim's hand, covering it with his. "You didn't take me. I _left_ , with you. They wanna sue me for breach of contract, they can go ahead and kiss my ass… and not in that way, some of them'd probably like that..." For the first time all day, Jim smiled. "Look, Jim, I'm just saying, I don't know what's going on either. But we can not know together, at least for a while." Their fingers laced together. "You're not alone in this. Not anymore."

 

The taxi ride from SFO to Jim's place in Berkeley was quiet, though once they got into the back of the cab Jim's hand found Leonard's, their fingers lacing with a practiced familiarity that both comforted and terrified Jim. Nothing about this felt right - but everything about Leonard fit, like the missing piece to the puzzle of Jim's life. 

Leonard seemed to enjoy the ride, staring out the window like a proper tourist. Jim made mental notes on where to take him first without even realizing that's what he was doing. Maybe… maybe this couldn't be forever. But Jim had this right now, so that's all he focused on.

"Between the flying and the driving, my bones are aching." Leonard stretched as he waited for Jim to open the door to his apartment. "All I wanna do is take off my shoes and flop. Maybe order in some take out?" he suggested.

Jim snorted. "Hell no. This is my town, gonna take you out to Chinatown for dinner, then over this great bar. It's old, you'll love it." Jim's heart tightened at the warm look on Leonard's face as he slid his key into the door, opening it for Leonard. 

But then Leonard's face fell and Jim looked up, freezing in place.

Spock and Pike, standing there, waiting. 

"Hello, Jim," Christopher said. "We need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #13: [Home and Your Hand in Mine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34p4D6tB9oo) by Explosions in the Sky (Friday Night Lights sndtrk)


	14. What now?

December 26  
San Francisco

 

It all happened so fast. 

One minute they were standing in the hallway of Jim's apartment, holding hands. The next, Jim was telling him to go, to leave with Spock. "I'll come get you later, Bones," that's what Jim said. What Jim told him. 

Right now, he sat in a Starbucks around the corner from the apartment building, a cup of regular black in his hands. "I need to talk to him," he repeated for what felt like the tenth time. 

Spock shook his head, blowing on his Chai. "He's with Christopher right now. I assure you, he's getting the assistance that he needs." Spock apparently had no problem wearing his leather black suit off the Island, and Leonard wondered if he owned any other clothes. "Has he told you about Christopher Pike, about their relationship?"

Leonard didn't like the way Spock emphasized that word, even though he knew he had no right to be jealous. "A little. Said Pike trained him, brought him up in his house, then they had a fight."

"Pike was the father figure that Jim never had growing up. Perhaps because they were so close, it made Jim's training easier, but the process of disengaging from Christopher frightened him. Perhaps it frightened them both. Harsh words were spoken." Spock took another sip from his hot drink. "They are both stubborn men."

"Did Pike train you as well?" Leonard wasn't surprised when Spock nodded knowingly, the barest smile on his lips. 

"Christopher is an extraordinary man."

"I'm sure he is," Leonard replied dryly. "With all due respect to the man, Jim's got me now. He doesn't need anyone else."

"No," Spock began slowly, "he does not have you. You belong to The Island, Leonard, that has not changed. What happened to you was wrong." He leaned forward, one hand resting briefly on the back of Leonard's neck, squeezing. "What Jim did to you was wrong. He took you out of your service." Sitting back, Spock crossed his legs. "We're taking you back."

No. "I want to talk to Jim."

Spock seemed to bristle with that familiarity. "The Captain is talking with his mentor. Surely you can appreciate how important this is to his well being." Spock took another small sip. "Did you enjoy meeting his family?"

It took all of Leonard's training to keep from standing and confronting Spock. "They're sweet people. I think I'm invited for Easter dinner." Spock's mouth twitched at that smartass comment. "You ever met them?"

Spock shook his head. "I have not." Glancing at Leonard, he eyed Leonard's coffee. "Have you finished?" But before Leonard could answer, Spock's phone rang. A smug sort of look crossed his face as he answered. "Very well. He wants to speak to Kirk." Another moment, then Spock held the phone out to Leonard. 

All of a sudden Leonard's stomach tightened. "Jim?"

_"Hey Bones. You okay?"_  


"Worried as fuck. How 'bout you?"  


_"I'm good. Chris Pike's here, we've been talking a little. I think I'm gonna go stay with him a few weeks, clear my head."_

Leonard wasn't sure if that tightness in Jim's voice was because he was being forced to say these words, or if Jim was just uncomfortable with all these people around. "Sounds good," he replied, standing as he spoke. "Got room for one more at that big place of his?" he asked, his voice light but tight.

The long pause didn't make Leonard feel any better. _"... you should go back with Spock, Leonard. It's okay. It's for the best, you'll be better off there right now."_

"The hell I will."

 _"I'll get in touch soon, I promise. I just… look, Bones, I gotta go."_ The call ended, and Leonard was left standing there, phone in his hand, feeling empty and slow and confused. 

"Doctor McCoy." Leonard knew Spock was being nice, using his title and last name but the last thing Leonard was feeling was generous. "It is time to go." 

No. Leonard glanced around, panicked, but when he spotted Mister Sulu and Mister Scott standing outside the coffee shop, he sighed, all the fight leaving him. "Will he be coming back?" he asked Spock. 

Spock shrugged as he stood, gesturing toward the door. "Perhaps when he's well, when he's more like himself."

Leonard stood as well, turning toward Spock. "You're wrong. He's never been more who he really is. I know Jim Kirk, the real Jim."

"You've known him for seven days. I've known him for seven years, so in this matter, we will agree to disagree. At any rate, Jim Kirk is no longer any of your concern." As Leonard passed by Spock, he felt the man stand behind him, whispering into his ear. "Enjoy your freedom, Leonard. As soon as we step onto the plane, you are my property again… and you will know your place."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #14: [Am I Wrong](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg1sT4ILG0w) by Nico & Vinz


	15. New Year's Eve

December 26  
Berkeley

 

"It's been a long time." 

It was Jim's apartment, but that didn't stop him from feeling like the outsider right now. "I guess," he said, sitting on the comfortable leather sofa, staring out a window overlooking the city, far off in the distance.

Christopher Pike hadn't changed much in the intervening years. Hair a touch grayer, but that face, the way those blue eyes bore into him was eerily familiar. This man had once changed his life. 

So why was this all so hard? "Why did they call you?"

"Why do you think? You went AWOL, Jim. Spock and Nyota, they were worried." Pike leaned forward in his chair. "I'm worried."

Jim waved him off dismissively, acting more confident than he felt. "I just needed a couple days off."

That didn't seem to satisfy Pike. Standing, he walked over to Jim's kitchen, pulling a couple of beers from the fridge. "You know Jim - in a lot of ways you are still that naive kid who walk through my doors all those years ago, thinking he knew all about sex." 

Jim glared at Pike, but accepted the beer. "I knew enough."

"No, you didn't. But you learned, picked up cues faster than anyone I had ever met. Some people were born to serve, Jim, and those people make the best trainers." Pike took a long sip from his beer bottle. "Then you got greedy."

Jim had heard all this before. "You never believed in the Island."

"Oh, I did. Found the financing for you, didn't I? Got the initial members on board by recommending your little summer camp?"

"You constantly ridicule it, you always have-"

Pike stood, pacing around Jim's living room. "Because you had built it up in your head to be paradise on Earth. It's your job, Jim. Ultimately, it's where you work."

Jim wouldn't hear it. "Is that how you run your house? Like a business?"

"It is, and the fact that you still don't understand that shows me that you haven't learned anything. What I do there, I do for others even more than I do it for myself. People need a place where they can be free to _want_ what they want. You provide that place, for them, for the others."

"Isn't that what The Island is all about? Forgetting the world?"

"For the guests, yes. The members visit to get away from their everyday humdrum lives. But someone has to remain grounded, one foot in reality, and you are slipping, son."

"That's what I was doing, and doing a good job. I just…" Jim shrugged again. "I needed a break."

"Yeah, you did. You got so deep in your head, Jim, you forget what the world is really like out there, and that's okay." Pike sat down again, right in front of Jim. "But the rules apply to you, kid, and you just broke about a dozen of the big ones. You have been lucky, Jim, damn lucky but that's only gonna get you so far. The rules are there for a reason. The rules protect the chained as much as they protect the one holding the chain." 

It was his job. For so long Jim had lived with the idea that he was the Captain, all the time, every day - and he'd lost Jim. "I fucked up." 

"Yes." Chris leaned over, squeezing Jim's knee. Territorial, possessive, but also comforting. "And now you're gonna get your head straight."

Jim was quiet a long moment, thinking. "How do I do that?"

"I think you started. You put the Captain away for a few days, really dropped him, left him behind on The Island." Jim thought about that, and it made sense. Even when he took some time away from his duties, he'd never really let go of being in charge, being in control.

"Being the Captain." When he was with Leonard, he found Jim again. But at a cost. "I fucked up," Jim repeated.

"Yeah." Chris lifted his hand up to Jim's shoulder and squeezed gently. "But it'll be okay."

 

An hour later Jim slipped into the passenger seat of Pike's sedan, heading north, out of the city. The car ride was quiet, and he found himself missing Leonard's company, the way he sighed softly when he was thinking, the little songs he sang as they drove. But stepping through the front door of the Napa house felt like coming home; different from Iowa but no less important. Iowa had been his youth, but Napa had been his awakening. 

"Make yourself at home," Christopher told him, before asking for his phone and tablet. "There's no wifi here, and I think you need some time unplugged." Jim didn't argue, handing them over before heading up to an empty bedroom. He unpacked, opening a drawer and finding a paddle and whip. It flared up again, that need. His fingertip slid along the glossy wood, and he imagined slapping it across Leonard's ass. Funny, the entire last week, they hadn't engaged in any of those games, not since they left the Island. 

But that didn't mean Jim didn't want it. Was that wrong?

"Not at all," Pike told him as they ate a quiet dinner, just the two of them sitting at the small kitchen table, rather than in the formal dining room. "Your wants and needs are just as valid as every other person who visits this house, or steps on your Island."

"Feels greedy," Jim said, pushing his food around the plate. "I mean, I love where I live, and I love my job - but I want more." More time with Leonard. More time alone with Leonard. '

Chris put his fork down, glaring at Jim. "Jim, you're not wrong for wanting to be loved."

Jim froze. _Was that it?_ That banal, empty feeling inside, the raw open wound. "I don't deal in love," he snapped out, too quickly. 

Christopher shook his head as he began to eat. "Again, that's business. Your work is sex, yes, but _you_ are allowed to have some romance in there, if that's what you want, although," he chuckled grimly, "falling for a slave probably wasn't the smartest move."

But he wanted Leonard. Away from the Island. But also on the Island. 

Greedy little shit. Was it okay to want more?

Fuck.

 

 

It wasn't until the next morning that he realized they were alone in the big house. "No guests. Losing your touch?" he asked, devouring his second plate of breakfast while Pike read the newspaper.

Chris laughed that that. "Nah… just thought you needed some alone time. Space and time, that's what you need right now." 

Jim stopped eating. "You closed the house for me?"

"Of course," Chris said, his eyes back on the newspaper. "You're family, Jim."

Family. "I went to Iowa for Christmas."

"Really?" Christopher had the grace to look surprised. "How did that go?" he asked over his coffee.

"Good. Better than I expected."

"Not the monsters you remembered?"

Jim looked embarrassed for having made it sound like that . "It wasn't that they were awful. But they didn't get me, who I was."

"Jim, I'm in your line of business, and sometimes I don't get you." Chris looked at him knowingly. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Right now, just don't worry about any of that. Not the Island, not your family, not _anyone_. Decide what you want, then I'll help you make it happen."

Jim laughed. "Again?"

Pike nodded, a smile on his face, but serious. "Yes. Always."

 

The plan was to stay for a few weeks, but on the fourth morning, Jim woke up and grinned. 

He had a plan. 

That empty, gnawing space inside was gone, replaced by want and desire, and a feeling that he deserved them, if he was willing to work for it. Jim knew what he wanted, what he needed to be complete.

Jim Kirk was ready to go home.

 

 

He didn't even need to tell Christopher. "You ready?" the older man guessed as they ate breakfast together, Jim a ball of barely contained energy as he ate. 

"I think so…" Jim said, his expression wary but hopeful. "If they'll take me back." It was a long shot, Jim knew this but he had to try. "But even if they say no, I can't hide here forever."

Christopher watched his face carefully. "Jim, that's your island, and I think they'll give you a second chance, I'm sure of it. But what are you gonna do with your second chance? Is going back there what you really want? Most people don't get the opportunity to start over. Hell kid, you're not even thirty, and you're healthy, rich, and smart as a whip." Chris put down his fork and napkin. "Jim, do you know what you really want?" 

Jim just smiled back at him. He did. 

 

 

Jim couldn't remember the last time he flew over The Island as a passenger. Limited his view, he mused, as the charter plane circled around toward the runway. It looked smaller, or maybe that was just the perspective from the back of the plane. 

Maybe the time away had changed what The Island meant to him. 

But that didn't mean he was unhappy. On the contrary, there was a lightness in his step that hadn't been there in months. A curiosity, a contentment about who he was and what he was going back to. 

_Leonard._

The smart thing would be to pay him off, offer him money to keep quiet about all that happened. In all likelihood this had already happened and Leonard McCoy was far away, back in Georgia with his daughter. 

Maybe Leonard would wait for him. Jim got a certain amount of time off every year. He'd give Leonard a little time to process all that had happened, and then Jim would call him. Tell Leonard what that trip meant to Jim. 

Tell Leonard what he meant to Jim. If the gods were good, then Leonard would feel the same, and they could try to make it work, if Leonard could be with someone like Jim. 

It was a chance worth taking.

But even if Leonard stayed on and served out his contract… 

Of course he'd never be Leonard's trainer again, Jim knew this without being told. After what had happened between them, it wouldn't be fair to Leonard to be put in that position, subservient to Jim. 

But maybe… just _maybe_...

Two years wasn't forever. Two years… and maybe Jim could meet Leonard in different circumstances, on equal terms. 

Dinner in Chinatown would taste just as good then, he supposed. 

 

If any of the staff had heard about Jim's abscondment of his duties, none of them mentioned it. It was all smiles and polite nods, the quiet murmurs of "Welcome back, Captain," when he passed through the halls on the way to his rooms. Even the nudity was comforting, another reminder to Jim that he'd made the right choice. 

This was where he belonged.

Jan was there, of course, Jan was always there, greeting him with a familiar look of respect and a neatly typed report delineating everything that he'd missed in his absence - all of it in perfect order, he saw, unsurprised. 

Jim walked around his bedroom, remembering the last time he'd been here. Challenging Leonard, letting go, getting fucked harder than he'd ever been in his life. The straps and whips were like old friends, which felt both odd and comforting. 

Changing into his leather felt like slipping into his skin.

 

Thirty minutes after his arrival, Nyota stopped by, perfection in black leather. "Hello, Jim." 

Standing, he walked toward Nyota, kissing her cheek. "Hey sweetheart." Taking a deep breath, he began, "I'm really sorry-"

"Stop," she began, touching his lips with one of her fingers. "We will talk of it later, but not now. Right now, I wanted to know that you're okay."

The smile he gave her was genuine. "I'm good. Better. Ready to get back to work," he added at the end, meaning it. Jim led her to the sofa in his living room. "How are things going here?" he asked as they settled next to each other.

"Good. We missed you. We were worried about you, both of us." A slow smile crossed her face. "But work can wait. You're just in time for the party tonight."

"That's right," Jim nodded. New Year's Eve. The Island always put on a great show - fancy dinner, fireworks at midnight, the band playing all night. "Need any help?"

She stroked the back of his hair, her concern evident in her touch. "No, Jim, I think we're good."

Remorse. "Sorry for just dropping things, and at the holidays too." 

"We managed," Nyota replied wryly, as she leaned back, a slow smile on her face. "You know how Spock loves a _situation_. This whole thing gave him the opportunity to step up and command. And Hikaru, he picked up a lot of extra duties. You'd be proud. And," she hesitated, "strange as it may sound, Leonard's been a huge help."

Jim's eyes widened, as as hard as he tried, he could not keep the curiosity out of his voice. "So he's still here."

"Oh yeah," Nyota nodded, smirking. "He flew back with Spock last week, and the two of them have been spending a lot of time together since, plotting." 

Jim felt his face flushing. "What?" Plotting with a slave? Had Spock taken Leonard for his own, the way he had taken Jan as his assistant? "Is he finishing his out contract?"

"Not exactly," Nyota said slowly. "Leonard says it was Spock's idea to put Leonard in his own bungalow, but we both know Spock wouldn't come to that conclusion on his own. I'm guessing Leonard's blackmailing him with _something_ , but I've no idea what." Nyota looked pensive, seeking out some answers in Jim's face but seeing only confusion. "You didn't tell him anything-"

"Me?" Jim shook his head. "No, I didn't say anything. We didn't talk about this place." Jim's brow furrowed. "I'm still confused. Leonard McCoy is not a slave anymore?" 

Nyota shook her head in return. "No one's said anything official but Sulu had the idea to spread a rumor that he actually works here, that he was hired to pose as a slave. Check out every part of our program, testing our procedures to see if they were working at optimum efficiency."

"Like quality control?" Jim asked, completely confused.

"Something like that. And everyone's buying it." Another slow smile on Nyota's face. "Sulu even started calling him The Doctor and now…"

"Wait," Jim stopped her, flabbergasted. "Leonard McCoy is actually _working_ here now?"

"So it seems. With you gone, I've been focusing on the members, keeping them happy. Like I said, Leonard and Spock have been thick as thieves. The two of them pretty much planned out all the festivities for tonight, including some new ideas for the gaming pits. He's a creative one, your doctor." She reached out and touched Jim's cheek. "Are you keeping him?"

None of this made sense. "He's not mine to keep anymore, you know that. The rules..."

Nyota smiled. "Sometimes, Jim, when it's the right person, you don't need a collar."

 

 

Nyota invited him to dine with her and Spock at the head table that evening, but after all that had happened, Jim wasn't up to shaking hands with the members just yet. Walking around his rooms felt good, touching his books and his telescope and his paddles. Everything in this room belonged to Jim Kirk, whoever that was, and that felt good. 

But then the text message from Sulu came a little after seven. _Leonard McCoy wants to speak to you. Shall I send him over or not?_

_Send him over._ The message sounded more confident than Jim felt, but there were so many questions about what Nyota had said. 

Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on the door. Leonard looked like a stranger, dressed in all white, like one of the trainers. "Are you okay?" he asked immediately, worry in those dark eyes.

Jim just stood there. "I'm good." Could it really be just two weeks ago when he'd first met Leonard? Had so much happened in so little time? 

The Captain was gone. Right now, standing in front of this door, he was just Jim. "Come in," he said, waving Leonard into his rooms. They sat awkwardly on the sofa. "I'm glad to see you here. Wasn't expecting that..." 

"Yeah," Leonard answered. "Me neither."

Jim swallowed. "First, I need to apologize."

"Don't, Jim-"

"Look," he began, holding up his hand. Leonard quieted. "What I did violated every tenet that this place stands for, everything that I believe in. I took your choice away from you." 

Leonard shook his head. "Thought that's why I signed up for this mess."

"No, not like that. Even there, it was your choice to come here, to submit." 

"And it was my choice to leave with you." Leonard gave Jim that same look he'd given him when they fought in the shower back in Iowa, a lifetime ago. "Don't blame yourself for that, kid." 

"Maybe." Jim looked up into Leonard's hazel eyes. "But I was wrong to ask."

"Maybe." Leonard gave him a soft smile. "But I'd do it again." Reaching out, he touched Jim's cheek, so soft. "Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah. Got some sleep. Talked to an old friend. Watched some television shows."

"Whatdya see?"

"The Walking Dead."

"Oh, that's a good one."

"Yeah..." Leonard leaned forward and even though Jim knew this was a bad idea, that they needed to talk first, he met Leonard halfway, closing his eyes as Leonard's lips brushed his, soft and tender, Leonard's hands in his hair, his hands on Leonard's face and then-

Then it was just them.

 

 

The windows in his bedroom were open, so Jim could hear the sounds of the party happening below, the entire island dancing and feasting and celebrating the new year. Rolling onto his side, Jim's fingers traced upward over Leonard's hip, his torso, and arm, stroking his bicep, the warm breeze cooling the sweat from their bodies. 

He could feel Leonard's heartbeat. "Do you miss the collar?"

"Sometimes." Leonard paused, touching Jim's neck. "Do you?"

"Yeah. What does that mean?"

Leonard's face lit up, that smile that Jim knew was only for him. "Nothing bad. Just that you don't need to be the one in control all the time. That you're willing and able to share that with me." 

"I'd like that." And he did, it was a wonderful dream. But… "How can I give that to you, Bones, when I have to work with the others, be with the others? And you, if you're working here…" Jim's hand slid around the back of Leonard's neck. "You wouldn't belong to me anymore."

"Jim, can't we just belong to each other?" Leonard's fingers traced along Jim's chest as they stared at each other. "You're a trainer here, I know what that means. I'm not in any position to judge you for that." Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling fan, slowly turning. "And if I worked here, alongside you, I'd hope you'd understand just the same."

Jim watched Leonard's face as he spoke. "No jealousy. You think we can manage that?" 

"I do," Leonard replied. "What if we'd met at some bar, Jim. Would we have been honest with each other? I mighta let the best thing ever to happen to me slip away, cause I was scared to say what I wanted, what I needed. This place is important. What you do is important. As long as I have this," Leonard brought Jim's fingers up to his lips, "I can handle anything. You're a great trainer, Jim. I'd never take that from you."

Jim wasn't sure how he got this lucky. Throwing one leg over Leonard's hips, he straddled him, settling comfortably over Leonard. Dropping his head, their lips brushed together slow and soft. "So... the Doctor." 

Leonard smiled, looking a little embarrassed. "Spock, well, he thinks its funny." 

"It's good. It fits." Another soft, lazy kiss as more fireworks went off outside. "Yeah... hey Bones?"

"Yeah, Jim?"

"You really wanna stay here?"

"I dunno. The white suit is pretty nice." Leonard stretched under Jim, his hands settling on Jim's hips. "I wanted to drown in someone else, that's all I came here for. To lose myself. But I found you, and now…" Leonard's smile reached up into his eyes as his fingers gripped Jim's skin. "I don't know if I can do this all the time, months and months on end, but I want to be near you, as much as I can."

"Yeah," Jim took Leonard's hand in his. "We can figure something out. Here, back home, your place, my place..." Then Leonard pulled him down for another searing kiss, and Jim knew it would be okay, whatever they decided. 

They had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack #15: [You Belong to Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ka6YEHBtMhc) by Courtnee Draper (Bioshock Infinite OST)
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to all of you that stayed along and read and commented - your thoughtful and encouraging words meant more than I can say. I hope I did not disappoint.


End file.
